SIERRA
by zashaxander
Summary: When young, successful crime novelist Richard Castle meets MI6 agent, code name 'Sierra', he has no idea just how much she will change his life. AU. Think Caskett meets spy thriller... *complete* M rated chapter (14.1) as a separate story.
1. WARNING

_**A/N: I've messed with the timeline a bit – this is set about 2007 – Sierra is aged 27, Rick is 37, and he just met Sophia when he was a bit older, stayed with her a bit longer, and never met Meredith or had Alexis. **_

CHAPTER 1 – WARNING

_A fancy night club, somewhere in New York City..._

Rick threw back another whisky, grimacing at the bitter taste as the liquid burned his throat. The night club was loud, very loud, and very dark. He looked over his shoulder at the dance floor; the mass of sweaty, gyrating bodies would have once appealed to him. According to the tabloids, it still did. He rubbed his jaw; it was rough with two days worth of stubble. He turned back to his empty glass and swirled the ice around. The bartender knew him well enough to refill it without being asked; Rick turned in his seat, holding his glass as he once again watched the dancers.

And then he saw her.

Her.

The one.

The one who would change everything.

The crowd parted for her – religious images came to mind, but she was no goddess. Her four inch heels clicked on the floor, her silky black dress flowed over her body, its simplicity highlighting her flawless figure. Her long blonde hair billowed around her shoulders; her black-rimmed eyes pierced his very soul. She walked towards him and he saw her as if in slow motion, noticing every movement, every swish of her hips...

"Richard Castle?" she said into his ear. He stared at her with a gormless expression for at least twenty seconds before he realised she had said his name. She had a British accent. More than perfect... She tapped his cheek.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I'm Richard..."

"Sierra. I'm MI6. Would you please come with me." She might have used the right words, but it was not a question. Her voice... She was used to giving orders. Rick practically fell of his barstool in his haste. She could order him around any time. He followed her out of the bar. The alcohol had made his brain slightly... foggy. But she had said to go with her. She had definitely said that.

There was a black SUV waiting outside. Rick laughed. So predictable – and yet, so _cool_. She opened the door and motioned for him to get in. He scrambled into the back seat, knowing he looked like a clumsy idiot, but unable to do anything about it. He was hypnotised. He scooted over and she got in beside him; the faceless driver pulled away as she closed the door.

"I don't think your name's really Sierra," he slurred, saying the first thing that came into his head.

"I know your name isn't really Richard _Castle_. But I'll call you it anyway. Mr Castle, my agency-"

"You're MI6, right? So, a British secret agent - foreign intelligence?"

"Yes. Now if we could-"

"That's just... awesome," he breathed.

She smiled sarcastically. "Thanks. If you interrupt me again, I will hurt you," she added, her tone suddenly icy. He put his fist in his mouth and nodded, shuddering.

"I want to ask you a few questions about a certain CIA agent you've been... tailing recently. Tell me, what is the nature of your relationship?"

Rick blinked. "You know about Sophia?"

"What is the nature of your relationship?"

"She's my... I follow her for research. For my books. I'm a novelist, I write crime novels..."

"I know. I've read them," she said dryly.

"You have?" he asked gleefully.

"We all make mistakes. So, Sophia Turner – is it just research?"

"Well, we-"

"You're sleeping with her. As I suspected."

"No. Well, yes, but wait, how did you-?"

"Mr Castle, I probably know significantly more about your life than you do yourself. I ask simply for confirmation; my sources are not always as reliable as I would like."

Rick shivered. He loved it when she talked. The cool air from the air conditioning was helping to clear his head; he felt vastly more coherent than when he had first got into the vehicle.

"Why are you talking to me about Sophia?" he asked.

Sierra's expression gave nothing away. "As a courtesy. She is about to become the centre of a major investigation by my agency, and it would be beneficial to your... health, if you were to remove yourself from her life."

"What? Why? She's... aren't MI6 and the CIA friendly?"

"We are. Miss Turner, however, seems to be not so _friendly _as one would hope. Clichéd as it sounds, the less you know the better." She produced a file from under her seat. "This is a document which you will sign, agreeing to never mention this meeting, or anything in it, to anyone. Ever. If you break this agreement, you could endanger many lives – and you will certainly lose your own."

Rick gaped at her.

"Wait, what is it? What's Sophia... why is she under investigation? I'll sign your thing, I won't tell anyone, you can tell me..."

Sierra sighed. She had been here too many times to count. "No." She handed him a pen, and noted in his favour that he actually read the document before signing it. The car stopped moving.

"We're outside your apartment," she told him. "It was nice to meet you."

"Will I see you again?" he asked, desperate to extend their meeting. He had no idea what was going on. He wasn't in love with Sophia exactly, but they were in a very intense relationship, which he still did not have much intention of ending. He was a master of disobeying orders. Even from someone like 'Sierra'. Screw doing what she said – he wouldn't mind if she punished him.

"I hope for your sake that you don't," she said. He kept his eyes on her as he got out of the car, lingering before he closed the door. She gave him a little wave, and he shivered. The way she made him feel... He let himself into his building, gulping for air. Wow. And, what the hell was going on?

…

Sierra leaned back into the soft leather seat and brought a hand to the back of her neck. She tugged off the wig and shook out her short brown hair.

"Where to, Ma'am?" asked her driver, Victor.

"My hotel, thanks," she said, closing her eyes. This job really was full of surprises – never had she expected when she was recruited in 1999 that she would be meeting _Richard Castle._ Still. She would never see him again... But his face when he'd seen her. He'd almost been _drooling_. She laughed quietly to herself, the gentle tinkling sound soothing the dull silence of the car. Sure, she had been wearing a wig, but having that effect on a man she so admired couldn't help but give her ego a little boost.


	2. ELIMINATE

CHAPTER 2 – ELIMINATE

A week had gone by, and Rick was almost beginning to think that his whole meeting with Sierra had been an alcohol induced dream. A British secret agent... But he had taken her threat seriously. Well, parts of it. He hadn't told anyone about what happened. Not that he had anyone to tell – he didn't really have friends; his mother was in LA... He only really had Sophia, and he wasn't about to tell her about what had happened. If he did, she'd only think he'd made it up. Now that they were sleeping together, they didn't seem to talk much anyway. He still followed her at work, and there was the sex, but that was pretty much all there was to it.

He couldn't seem to let go, though. It was partly that he had no one else, and partly that he was worried for her. He couldn't believe she'd done anything wrong, or not very wrong, anyway. She was loyal to her country, he was certain. And MI6 – that was Britain – what would the British want with her? She was American...

They always met at his place. It was bigger, and she liked to have some of her life that he wasn't in. She said it was for his own safety as much as for her privacy. He didn't know if he believed her, but he didn't mind – he knew she wasn't completely honest with him. They both lied for a living – he made up stories; she pretended to be someone she wasn't to catch bad guys.

He'd arranged a 'date' with her on a Friday night. He had tentatively suggested going out, but she was less keen on the idea than he was – and he did little to disguise his relief that they wouldn't have to make a public appearance.

They ended up in the bedroom with almost no preamble – Sophia even turned down a glass of wine. Rick was sure she was just using him now, but he had never had this much fun being used before. Being shallow was one of his many talents.

He didn't notice the crash of the door; they were making enough noise of their own to very nearly cover the sound.

…

The investigation into Sophia was revealing far more than Sierra had ever predicted. Working with her allies in the CIA, she had uncovered the horrifying truth about this supposedly loyal agent. MI6 had first noticed the 'odd sock' which had sparked the interest in this woman, which was the only reason Sierra was working the case. Turner had done nothing to threaten them. But this went deep; the CIA weren't allowed to investigate on American soil, and they didn't want to involve the Bureau, or anyone else unless it was completely necessary.

Sierra didn't resent cleaning up for the Americans – she felt a certain kinship with her sister agency, and she enjoyed being back in New York.

She had gathered as much information as she could, and she had been given orders this morning to _ELIMINATE_. She didn't revel in the fact she would have to kill a woman not so different from herself, but was comforted by the fact that Sophia Turner was a mass murderer herself.

She checked the tracker, and groaned. Turner was with _Castle. _She had known he wouldn't stay away from Sophia, but it was a pain that she had to perform the op with the target starting in the author's loft.

She tried texting Turner to get her out, but to no avail – her phone was probably off. It seemed her relationship with Castle was barely anything other than physical. She didn't judge – she'd had similar arrangements herself.

She was going to have to go in, though. Victor drove her to Castle's building with a smile on his face.

"Have fun," he said as she made to get out.

"What?"

"I know you're a fan. He probably isn't dressed."

Sierra cringed. She might have thought Castle was cute. Maybe. Maybe she thought he was ruggedly handsome. It was possible. But she did NOT want to see him like this. She was about to shoot his girlfriend! She didn't know what to do with him – ideally, Turner would leave with her, and Castle would never know what happened to her. He'd guess, though. He wasn't stupid. And he'd spent enough time around spies to know that someone led away at gunpoint was going nowhere good.

She adjusted the wig; she had to keep up appearances. Then she removed her weapon from its holster, attached the silencer, made a face at Victor, and got out of the SUV. She took the stairs – they were less conspicuous, and anyway, she didn't like being boxed into elevators - and broke down his door. She could hear them from the hallway – they hadn't even stopped at the crash. She was a little annoyed – she'd hoped she wouldn't have to go in to the room while they were actually _at it._

Following her ears, she marched into his bedroom. She trained her weapon on Turner, who was now very aware of her presence. Castle was very stunned, and very naked.

"Get your knickers on Sophia, we're leaving," Sierra said. Rick thought he saw a hint of a smile in her eyes, but it could have been disgust. Sophia complied – she wasn't in much of a position to argue.

"Bye, Ricky," she said, winking at him as she left the room in front of Sierra.

"Wha..?" Rick said to the retreating women, but they had far too much on their minds to pay an attention. He struggled to sit up, then looked around the chaos of his bedroom. That was what you got when you messed with spooks, he supposed. Would Sierra shoot her? He had to admit he found the idea of them fighting kind of hot, but murder her? No... Sierra wouldn't do that. She wasn't that cold. Was she?

Sierra was glad Turner had been compliant. She got quietly into the SUV, and Victor began to drive them somewhere out of the way. She kept her gun trained on the other woman, wishing there was an easier way. No matter how many times you had to do it, how many counselling sessions you were sent to, you never got used to this. Especially the execution ones – Sierra was old school, she liked the idea of a fair fight. The problem was, in a fair fight with Sophia Turner, there was no guarantee she would win.

Victor pulled over. Sierra thought she saw Turner sigh. They all got out; Turner now had two pistols pointing at her.

"You need a minute?" Sierra asked.

Turner sighed. "Honestly, I thought this would have happened years ago. Let's just get it over with."

"Fine by me," Sierra said. Turner looked out over the river, the wind blowing back her wavy black hair. Sierra winced, told herself firmly that Turner was a murderous bitch, and popped two rounds into the back of her head. She arched beautifully, sailing down into the river. There wasn't even any blood to clean up.

Victor took out his hip flask and had a long swig, then offered it to Sierra. She accepted gratefully, then got back in the car. Victor drove to the hotel. Sierra would have a few days to rest before getting a new assignment. She had stayed completely under the radar, and no one would miss Sophia, so she would have no need to leave the city. She was glad – she didn't have a home, but if she had done, she would have wanted it to be here. There was something about the place...

…

Rick felt a chill run through his body as he opened his eyes. He hadn't had a dream like that in years. He ran a hand through his hair-

And felt the gun, millimetres from his head. He had just a few moments to be utterly terrified – then everything went black as his attacker hit him over the head with the barrel.


	3. CHASE

CHAPTER 3 – CHASE

Sierra had been asleep for all of twenty minutes when her phone beeped. It was on emergency alert only. She groaned. What had happened now? Turner was gone, she had no known associates... She answered the phone.

"Sierra," she said groggily.

"Urgent mission," said a male voice that she didn't recognise. "Richard Castle taken by unknown, likely related to previous task. Retrieve immediately."

"What? I thought we were watching his place!"

"Affirmative. Suspicious vehicle seen leaving one minute ago."

"But if they were watching why didn't they stop it?"

"Units not tasked with intercepting; surveillance only."

"Shit! So, I follow them. Is Victor coming?"

"Negative. No resources. Possible blown cover."

"Crap. So I have to steal a car, again?"

"Any means necessary. Maintain disguise."

"But if they made Victor won't they have made me too?"

"Negative. Maintain disguise."

"Bloody hell," she said into the phone, pulling on some clothes and throwing her kit into a bag. "Can you give me the tracking information?"

"Affirmative. Sending now."

She looked at the phone; it took a few seconds to download the tracking information from the surveillance unit. She swept the room just in case, but there was very little risk, then picked the lock to the maintenance staircase and hurried straight down to the underground parking.

She chose a sleek black Porsche – what was the point of staying in a fancy hotel if you didn't take advantage of the fancy guests? - and had it going in moments. She set up her phone on the dash; she was ten minutes away from the target. She floored it, dodging around the traffic. What did they even want with that idiot? And who were _they_? Turner hadn't had anyone...

She caught up with the surveillance vehicle; at least they hadn't screwed up tailing; and took over. He was in a grubby white van being driven by a total maniac. She opened her window at threw on a GPS tracker – one of the few spy gadgets that were used both in real life and in moves. They were going for the moving bridge. _Fuck. _The van broke through the barrier and just made it; Sierra would have no chance. She cursed again, then waited impatiently. She watched the GPS signal, they were heading out of the city.

After what seemed like an eternity the bridge went down – but she was so far behind now! She drove even more recklessly than before, cursing herself, cursing idiot Castle for getting himself caught...

She still wasn't with them as she left the city, but she was getting closer. They had stopped moving, which helped. She wondered what on earth was going on. But there was a problem. She had a horrible feeling she had a tail, and she couldn't shake it without losing precious time in getting to Castle.

…

Rick blinked, shaking the freezing water out of his eyes. He groaned. He had a splitting headache, he was in a dark room, handcuffed, and tied to a straight backed wooden chair. A basement? He couldn't see any windows... There was someone else in there. He wasn't hiding his face. Rick cursed inwardly. That meant they were going to kill him.

"What do you know about Sophia Turner?"

The guy had a slight accent – Russian? He was also really, _really _ugly. Rick almost laughed. The guy took out a knife. Rick winced as the knife touched his bare chest – he was dressed only in boxer shorts.

"I do not want to ask you again."

Rick wondered what to say. He decided to be slow. Slow was how to survive. Maybe someone would know he was missing..? Yeah, like who? Sophia? Oh, right, yeah, the one who'd been escorted away from him at gunpoint by an MI6 agent. So, really slow.

"She's, ah, she works for the CIA?"

That earned him a punch to the gut. He gritted his teeth.

"She's hot-"

Another punch. But he was still alive. Alive was good.

"What do you know about what happened to her tonight?"

He groaned.

"She, ah... we were together. And then she left."

"She left?"

"Yeah. She was with me, then she left. Look, I don't know what you want with me but I'm a famous author, and I don't think it would be in your interest to hurt-"

He doubled over in pain at the third punch, letting out a moan of agony.

"I know. You are Richard Castle. My boss, he hates your books. And we are not popular; we do not need to maintain an image of not hurting celebrities. If you do not know anything else," the knife stroked his Adam's apple, "there is no use for you."

"No, wait! She left with someone."

"Ah, she did? Who?"

"I don't know. A woman. A woman with a gun."

The man was suddenly hanging on his every word.

"What did she look like?"

"Uh, she was young. Hot. So hot. Like-"

There was a pop, and the man's face exploded.

"Like that..." Rick breathed. Sierra took the handcuff keys out of the now-dead man's pocket and set Rick free. She then grabbed his arm and dragged him from the room. He didn't even bother to ask her what was going on. She hurried him up some stairs and outside, then bundled him into the passenger seat of a beautiful Porsche. She was in her seat in the blink of an eye, and then they were moving again, still away from the city.

"Wait, what the he-"

He was cut off by the sound of gunfire behind them.

"Shit! Duck down!"

Rick complied, curling up in the foot well. Sierra drove faster, cursing. Then she addressed him.

"Can you drive?"

"Yeah..."

"Okay, take the wheel." Sierra yanked a machine gun out of her bag and wound down her side window. She stood up, feet still on the pedals. Rick grabbed the wheel, not knowing whether to be turned on or terrified by their proximity.

"Get into the seat. And whatever happens, DO NOT STOP. Got it?"

Without waiting for an answer she shifted so there was room for him to scoot under her. She was almost on his lap, though her upper body was nearly all out of the window. She began shooting at whatever it was behind them. Rick was sure he was dreaming. After a surprisingly short time he heard an explosion, and Sierra rolled back into the car and into the passenger seat.

"Pull over at the next place there are cars parked," she said, a slight hitch in her voice. Rick looked at her and saw that she was bleeding.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. Eyes on the road, writer boy."

Rick shook his head. This had to be the weirdest night ever. He was just on a high to still be alive. And then he realised Sierra was taking her shirt off. She delved in her bag and pulled out a bandage, which she proceeded to wrap around the graze on her arm. She put the shirt back on and Rick gave himself a shake.

"So. Would you mind telling me what that was all about?"

Sierra sighed. "You get to a garage. We switch cars. I drive us somewhere safe. And then I will explain as much as you need to know."

Rick began to get annoyed. "Earlier tonight, you led my girlfriend away at gunpoint. And then I was kidnapped, beaten up, shot at, and forced to drive this car-"

"Oh, come on, you're enjoying it."

She was laughing?

"How can you be laughing? You were just shot at! And hit!"

"It's just a scrape. You get used to it. And I'm laughing at the absurdity."

"What absurdity?"

"A simple mission. One job. In an out. But somehow life never seems to work like that. And now I'm stuck babysitting you."

"Didn't you just blow up the bad guys?"

"I have a feeling there'll be more."

"Right."

They drove on in silence. Sierra kept an eye on her phone, and also on the rear view mirror. Rick just tried to drive. He was becoming more aware of the fact that he was only wearing underwear. He was also beginning to feel the acute pain in his gut now the adrenaline was wearing off. Sierra seemed to read his mind.

"When we stop I'll give you something for the pain."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "Oh, by the way, did you kill Sophia?"

Sierra sighed. "She was going to kill you. And she was a huge international threat."

"Why did the Russians want to know about her?"

"Because she's Russian."

"What?"

"You heard. Look, later. And there's a garage. Pull over."

He did so and she got out of the car.

"Think you can sit tight while I go buy you a shirt?"

Rick nodded. Sierra hurried into the shop and bought some biscuits, water, an I-heart-NY t-shirt, sweats and a pair of flip flops. When she came out, Rick was sitting in the car looking completely dazed. Poor guy. She threw the clothes at him and took her bag out of the car.

"Come on. We're switching."

She scanned the lot and selected an inconspicuous navy suburban.

"You're going to steal a car?" he breathed. She winked.

"Oh, but can't you steal a cool one. The Porsche..." he said sadly.

"Sorry, writer boy, got to be under the radar. This'll be better."

She hot wired the engine and they were soon on the road again. Rick fell asleep in the passenger seat; Sierra envied him. She would have to drive for another couple of hours at least before it was safe to stop.

_**Thanks for reading these three chapters, please review! And I wonder who 'Sierra' is...**_

_**Z**_


	4. RUN

CHAPTER 4 – RUN

Sierra paid for a room at a cheap "otel" (the 'm' was missing from the neon sign) well off the beaten track. She parked the car and gave her passenger a shove.

Rick groaned as he slowly returned to wakefulness.

"Come on writer boy, you can sleep in a bed now."

He followed her out of the car and upstairs to their room. She opened the door and sighed. A double bed for him and a lumpy sofa for her. Still, she'd slept in far worse places. At least it seemed relatively clean. Rick sat down on the edge of the bed, and Sierra flopped down on the couch to face him.

"So, would you please tell me what the hell is going on?"

Sierra sighed. She would have to tell him something.

"Okay. Remember, anything I say is for your ears only, right?"

"Of course."

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Why were you investigating Sophia?"

"The woman who called herself Sophia Turner was actually a former KGB sleeper agent. We thought she had been completely cut off by her country, which was why she was planning an attack which could potentially begin a third world war."

"What attack?"

"Do you know what a linchpin is?"

"It's... a small thing that holds everything together."

"Right. Well, there are a number of linchpins that hold together the USA. Sophia was going to taje one out."

"As in kill someone?"

"Right."

"Who?"

"You."

Rick gasped. "I don't believe you. How am I a linchpin?"

"Do you know who your mother is currently sleeping with?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Sierra laughed. "Not much – except that he's a high up military commander in charge of, among other things, your country's drones over China."

"China?"

"She already had a patsy to take the blame for your death, someone from Chinese intelligence. Because of your mother's connections, the US would probably end up fighting China. You're quite famous, Mr Castle. Though I find it absurd, a lot of people would be outraged were you to die."

Rick smiled sarcastically at her. "Thanks. You have read my books though. And you didn't let me die. You're British, why do you care?"

"It isn't in British interest for war to break out either. We caught on to Sophia, and since the CIA can't investigate on home turf, my agency decided to be all friendly and send me. Solving everybody's problems with one quick job."

"So you were sent to kill her?"

"I was sent to confirm our suspicions and prevent your death."

"By killing her?"

"I was given the order."

"Stop beating about the bush! Did you kill my girlfriend?"

"I don't know why _you're _angry about it. She was going to kill you."

Rick groaned. "Spooks, you're all the same. Never giving straight answers, having fake names... I trusted Sophia! I liked her, I cared about her!"

Sierra frowned. "I'm sorry."

"You were doing your job. Why was I kidnapped?"

"It seems she wasn't as friendless as my agency thought. But I have no idea – I thought it was over."

"What, you mean _you _don't even know what's going on? You bring me here, to the middle of nowhere in a manky hotel with people trying to kill us, and you don't even know what's happening? Christ..."

Sierra groaned. "I'll call my bosses. See what I can find out. Meanwhile, you should get some rest."

"What about you? Aren't you tired?"

Sierra smiled. Always the womaniser, wasn't he?

"You take the bed; if I get a chance I'll nap on the couch but we should really have someone keeping watch. Anyway, I'm used to it."

"What's your name?"

"Sierra."

"That's military code. I mean your actual name."

She smiled ruefully. "If I told you..."

Rick laughed. "Fine, _Sierra_."

Sierra grinned. "Why are you so happy? I mean, most people who've had a day like yours go utterly mental and start trying to run away or go home or shoot me... You've been remarkably good, helpful even."

Rick winked. "It's fun. I like adventures."

"But I just shot your girlfriend, you were kidnapped, some people tried to kill us... Aren't you afraid?"

Rick sighed. "There comes a point in life, when you're rich and famous, where most things have very little meaning. When I first met you, I was bored and drunk – a state which I had been in for quite some time. Sophia was fun... But I knew she didn't really like me. We were using each other. I'm sad about it, but... well she's dead now."

"You believe me."

"Why would you lie? Plus, you act like a spy. And I am afraid. I just don't care very much. My mother and I aren't close, and apart from her there isn't a soul in the world who cares about me. At least if I die kidnapped by crazy Russians, I'll be doing something cool and exciting."

Sierra made a face at him. "You're an idiot. And you're not going to die."

"Well then. I trust you. If you tell me I'm not going to die, why should I be afraid?"

Sierra wanted to bang his head against the wall. "Go to sleep, Mr Castle. I don't know when we'll have to leave, so get some rest while you can."

"Fine. I'm not an idiot."

"But for a literary genius, you can be pretty thick."

"Literary genius? I thought you said reading my books was a mistake?"

"I was quoting the reviews – I hold the minority viewpoint and prefer Patterson."

"You wound me."

"If you don't go to bed I will."

"Treating me like a child..."

"You are like a child. A nine year old on a sugar rush, completely incapable of taking anything seriously."

Rick laughed. "I like that description." He lay down on the bed.

"Sweet dreams, writer boy."

"Goodnight, _Sierra._"

He said her name in a mocking way, trying to bully her into telling him something else. She could give another fake name, of course, but she wasn't bothered. He could pull her pigtails if he wanted; she had more important things to think about than babysitting. She had to find out who was behind this and end it so she could finally have a rest. She filled the kettle in the room and made a coffee, then went into the bathroom with her phone.

…

Rick watched his super hot kick ass babysitter disappear into the bathroom, trying to take everything in. Sophia was dead... He was surprised he wasn't more upset, but finding out someone was only with you to try and kill you had a big effect on the way you felt about them. He closed his eyes and focused his ears – eavesdropping was another of his special skills.

_Requesting further instructions._

_What do you mean, you don't know?_

_Well do you at least know who's after him?_

_Bloody negative. I'll show you negative. So what am I supposed to do?_

_Babysitting. Right. What about investigating?_

_What? All of them? _

_Christ... So much bigger than we thought. Victor?_

_Dammit! I liked him, too. So when will it stop?_

_Wow, that's wonderful! 'Sending in units when possible' – what does that even mean? What about the CIA or the bureau?_

_Oh, great. Caught up in sodding US politics _again_. Can I investigate?_

_Why not? I have nothing better to do!_

_But for how long? They'll find us – there were enough to take out everyone in the city in a matter of hours. How many bases did we have?_

_Jeez._

_Right. Tell them to get their bloody skates on. Out._

Rick heard the toilet flush, then Sierra came out of the bathroom. He feigned sleep – he didn't think she believed him though. She went over to the window, then he heard her pull on the door, checking the lock. He heard the creak of the couch as she sat on it, the zip of her bag, the swish of some water, and the click of her glock as she popped out the magazine to check it was full. He imagined her expression, firm, with those big brown eyes that were sometimes almost green... He imagined her settling back on the couch, shifting so as not to irritate her grazed shoulder. He heard a sigh. From the sound of her conversation, they were almost on their own.

She had risked her life to save him – and she had saved him three times in the last 24 hours. He wondered how she was feeling; he hoped she would be okay. On the phone, she had sounded almost desperate. She hadn't been speaking loudly, but motel walls were thin, and he was a good listener. He had heard the cracks in her voice.

…

Sierra watched Rick. He was pretending to sleep. She wondered what he was thinking. She also wondered how the hell she had ended up babysitting some celebrity writer. There were a lot of people after them. It was only a matter of time before they caught up – she hated running. She had joined MI6 so she could be doing the chasing instead. She very rarely looked back to her old life, but that night she found her mind drifting back to the memories she usually kept so well buried. Maybe it was proximity – she hadn't been in New York for a while, and it always jolted her emotions a little. Usually she liked it – if she belonged anywhere, she belonged in that city. But now she was running.

And she was a murderer. She had sworn to protect people; to fight for justice. But was she really any better than the people she was fighting? She had killed because she was told to, because she was ordered to. Sophia was only planning to do the same.

The world was a hard place. She focused on the door, put her walls back up, and forced herself to concentrate on the job at hand. Keep Richard Castle alive – save the world.


	5. ALONE

CHAPTER 5 – ALONE

Sierra blinked, trying to stay awake. She checked her phone; she had plugged it in to charge. It was just after 5am. She didn't even want to count how many hours it had been since she last had a proper night's sleep. They would have to go, though. They weren't safe here. She nudged Rick.

"Time to go. You have 5 minutes to use the bathroom, then we're leaving."

He mumbled groggily, so she shoved him again.

"Get up."

She got out some water and the biscuits, then quickly packed away all their stuff. She peeked out of the window at the breaking dawn – they really had to move it. Rick staggered to the bathroom. Sierra took her toothbrush out of her bag and sprayed on some deodorant. She wanted a shower but there wasn't time. Rick put his head around the door and saw her brushing.

"Can I borrow that?"

She stared at him. "What? No."

"Why?"

"I'll buy you some breath mints."

"Thanks, but I like having _clean _teeth. Never even had a filling."

Sierra raised her eyebrows. "You're not using my toothbrush."

Rick grinned. "I'll play you for it."

"Are you done in there? Because we have to go."

"You have to use the bathroom too. I can tell. I won't let you in unless you let me use that."

Sierra groaned, and handed him the toothbrush. He popped it in his mouth without rinsing it. She made a face, then handed him her gun.

"If it moves, shoot it. Unless it's me."

She locked the door and used the facilities as quickly as possible. When she came out, he was still admiring her gun, nibbling on her toothbrush. She snatched the brush and rinsed it, then put it back in the bag and took her gun from him.

"You have more than one gun. Can I have one?"

"You looked through my stuff?"

"I'm a spy too."

"You can't have a gun. Do you even know how to use one?"

"You could teach me."

She sighed. "When we get to the safe house, _if _you haven't annoyed me on the way there, I'll show you how to use my back up piece."

Rick grinned from ear to ear.

"Are you going to steal another car?"

"You are such a child. Yes. Come on, let's go."

He followed her out happily, looking around the parking lot.

"Oh, pleeease can we take the Aston Martin? Come on, British spy! It would be criminal not to!"

Sierra sighed, but went over to the Aston.

"Show me how you do it," he said, leaning in far too close. She grabbed hold of his ear and he squealed, then backed off. She slid the wire through the window, unlocked the door, quickly cut the alarm wire, and opened the hood to start the engine. Rick watched her intently, munching on his biscuits.

"Don't make crumbs in the Aston," she told him sternly. He threw away the packet and brushed his fingers on his shirt. Sierra laughed.

"You should do that more often."

"Do what?"

"Laugh. You look pretty when you laugh."

She didn't answer for a moment, then brushed it out of her mind. He couldn't be hitting on her. She had shot his girlfriend less than 24 hours ago.

"I could drive," he said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"You know I can drive. I drove yesterday. And you need to sleep. You're tired."

Sierra sighed. He was right. She had already let him drive. She opened the driver's door for him and got into the passenger seat. She set up her phone so he could see it.

"Just follow the directions – it's all programmed. Think you can manage?"

"Oh yeah. I take direction very well."

More innuendo. Sierra ignored it, and flopped back against the seat. She was exhausted. In minutes she was fast asleep.

Rick watched her. She was cute. Her blonde hair fanned out over her shoulders, and for once her face muscles were relaxed. The phone was taking him along more and more obscure roads – he hadn't seen a single car since he'd left the road the motel had been on. With his protector pretty much unconscious, he suddenly felt a little nervous.

He drove on, feeling more and more alone. He had half a mind to wake her up – she would snap at him, but at least he'd have someone to talk to. For all his bravado and childish antics, it was beginning to dawn on him that he was in real danger, and what he had overheard the night before hadn't made the prognosis look good. His girlfriend had only been with him to kill him – and now her associates were also out for his blood. He was in a stolen car with a lone British agent, who's help was far away and would take a long time to reach them. Even this super strong woman had seemed worried last night. No one would miss him, his mother wouldn't check in with him for weeks yet unless she needed something. He had nothing. No friends. All he had was Sierra, a girl who didn't even have a real name.

He wondered if she was afraid. He thought she was, but she was good at hiding it. She would protect him, he was sure. But knowing so little about the forces against them somehow made him feel all the more threatened.

It was fully light now, but the sky was grey and it was beginning to drizzle. He wished he could do anything, even have the radio on, to make him feel less alone.

…

_Sierra was standing at the edge of the river, looking at the flowing black hair of the woman she was about to execute. She raised her weapon and fired the shots. Two little pops, and the body sailed over the precipice. _

_But there was a thud. She ran to the edge. Instead of falling into the Hudson, the body had fallen into an alleyway that was all too familiar. On her back, bleeding out in a pile of garbage-_

_And her face. Sierra screamed. This was not Sophia Turner. This was someone else. She knelt by the body, desperately trying to revive the woman she had killed, but it was pointless. She was gone._

_She was shaking violently, jolting-_

"Sierra? Sierra, wake up! Are you okay?"

She shivered. Rick's hand was on her shoulder; he had been trying to wake her.

"I'm fine writer boy, just keep driving."

He looked at her suspiciously. She had been screaming, yelling, calling out – calling out for her mother.

"You're worried, aren't you?"

Sierra sighed – Rick noticed that she did that a lot. "It was just a dream, Castle. Forget it."

He nodded, and returned his eyes to the road. Sierra tried to relax again, leaning back in the seat. Her head was hot and itchy; she wished she could take the wig off, but she would wait until she could shower. She hoped there would be a decent bathroom at the safe house – she had been texted the location in the early hours of that morning.

They actually weren't far off now. She'd slept for a good six hours.

"You need a break, Castle?"

He shook his head. "It says only a couple of hours left."

"We should get some food and stuff before we go to the house."

"What'll it be like?"

"Don't know. Never been there."

Rick frowned.

"When you were dreaming... you talked a little bit. And you didn't have a British accent."

Sierra bit her lip.

"Dreams are weird."

"Sure. Of course. MI6. British."

"Look, don't stress. I really am MI6. Promise."

"I believe you. Is your mother from Manhattan, maybe?"

Sierra looked at him. "She was."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a while ago."

Rick could see she didn't want to talk about it, so he did his best to keep his mouth shut. She looked out of the window at the rain – it was getting harder. There was a storm coming. And they were going to be caught up in the middle of it.

* * *

_**A/N: I realise I've messed with the timeline a bit – this is set about 2007 – Sierra is aged 27, Rick is 37, and he just met Sophia when he was a bit older, stayed with her a bit longer, and never met Meredith or had Alexis. (adding this note to the beginning as well, this is for the ones who have already read the first chapter)**_

_**Thanks for reading, please review!**_

_**Z**_


	6. HIDING

CHAPTER 6 – HIDING

They stopped at a supermarket a few miles from the safe house. Sierra produced a cap and sunglasses from her bag and handed them to Rick. He laughed as he put them on.

"Now I really do feel like a spy."

He pulled a goofy expression, and Sierra couldn't help but laugh with him. He had a way of making even the most stressful situations a little more relaxed.

They went around the store, buying everything they could think of – a lot of food, washing stuff, clothes, towels, books, even DVDs and a deck of cards.

"What will there be at the house?"

Sierra shrugged. "It varies. Sometimes they're pretty well furnished, other times it's a couple of mattresses in a reinforced shed."

Rick groaned, then remembered Sierra had spent last night awake on a lumpy couch.

"If there's just one bed, you can have it."

Sierra smiled at the gesture. "We'll be taking turns sleeping," she said, throwing an electric heater and a couple of sleeping bags into the cart, "but thanks."

"Always," Rick answered, winking at her as he added shot glasses to their collection. She raised her eyebrows.

"We might get bored," he said with a shrug, then disappeared to find whiskey. "How likely is it that they'll find us?" he asked when he returned.

Sierra thought about it. "Almost inevitable, eventually. But if we're lucky, it'll take them a good few days, maybe a week. The safe house is completely secret, and we've managed to be under the radar."

As if to illustrate this, she paid for their large purchase in cash; fresh, crisp bills straight from the bank. They loaded it into the car and Sierra offered to drive the last fifty miles or so. Rick was happy to settle into the passenger seat. After a few minutes of silence he asked if he could put the radio on. Sierra nodded, and he gleefully began fiddling with the tuner. However, they were travelling further and further away from civilisation, and the only thing he managed to find was static.

The safe house was several miles down a dirt road, a sort of cabin overlooking a river. It was almost picturesque – if the pouring rain hadn't turned all the exposed ground to mud it would have seemed like a holiday destination. Also, the cabin was made of bricks, not logs, and had just one reinforced steel door. The windows were all fake apart from a few slits to let in daylight, and it was surrounded by what looked like an electric fence, which Sierra programmed as they arrived.

"The code's 41319. What's the code?"

"Uh, 41319."

"Tell me again."

"41319."

"Very good. Remember it."

Rick nodded.

"Same code for the door, but it needs fingerprints too. Very techy – the buttons all have print scanners. I'll have to scan you in, we don't trust the master database with the safe houses, so almost all their security is self contained – that way, even if there's a mole who messes with the central computer, the safe houses are still safe."

"How do you know so much about CIA safe houses?"

"Same system as in Britain. Plus, the US is my area of expertise."

Rick nodded, and helped her carry the shopping in. The house had three rooms – a bedroom, a kitchen-dining-living room, and a bathroom. Sierra swept the place, then told Rick to put the food away. She opened her bag and took out her weapons. She flipped over the coffee table and taped her sig under it – her glock stayed comfortably on her hip.

"There's a gun under the coffee table," she called to Rick.

"Uh, cool..." he said, putting away six cans of baked beans. Sierra left her back up glock out, put her machine gun in the bedroom, and her tiny hand gun in the bathroom cabinet. There were some grenades in the bag; she left it in the kitchen.

"It's like Mary Poppins... but hardcore," Rick said, watching her. Sierra laughed.

"Come here and let me scan you in to the fingerprint thing."

Rick tried to ignore the tingling in his fingers when she took hold of his hand.

"What's the code?" she asked him suddenly.

"41319."

"Good boy," she said, smiling. "Okay, it knows you now. I don't imagine we'll be going out much, but just in case..."

Rick nodded. "No TV," he said sadly. Sierra laughed.

"You can play your DVDs on my laptop. Although Die Hard, seriously?"

"I thought it went with the mood."

She laughed again. Rick loved the sound; it was like floaty bubbles in his ears.

"Want to learn how to shoot?" she asked him. He nodded enthusiastically. She looked in the cupboards and found a cereal box, took out the cereal, and put it on top of the couch. She led Rick to the other end of the room and stood behind him.

"Shoot the tiger's face. The wall could use a bullet hole."

Rick laughed.

"Won't you get into trouble?"

"Doubt it. No one'll even know it was me. Well, no one from here. Anyway, I think you'll miss and hit the settee. And it's crap anyway."

"What's a settee?"

"Couch."

"Bloody Brits."

"Shoot, writer boy."

He shot three rounds into the couch. Sierra laughed. She helped him square up his legs, then put her arms around him, getting his arms at a better angle. His skin sizzled wherever she touched it. She was better at hiding it.

"We could always just cuddle, Castle," she said as he tensed up even more. She said it to hide her own feelings, and it worked. Rick gave his shoulders a little shake.

"I bet I hit the damn tiger this time."

Sierra laughed. "No chance."

"Okay. I bet your shirt I can hit him on the nose."

She grinned. "What do you lose if you lose?"

"Your pick. I'm not going to lose."

"So, strip target practice? I should suggest it on our training weeks."

"MI6 camp? What's that like?"

"Muddy. Shoot the tiger."

Rick smiled his lopsided smile, narrowed his eyes, and shot the tiger on the nose. Sierra stared at him.

"A moment ago you couldn't shoot!"

"You're a very good teacher," he said seductively. She took off her shirt and threw it at him. He watched her with admiration.

"I'm going to take a shower. You can keep that. It has a hole in anyway. Watch the door. An alarm will go off if anyone even turns down the road, but-"

"Just in case. Sure. Enjoy your shower," he said cheerfully as he watched her go into the bathroom.

Sierra sighed with relief as she finally removed the vile blonde wig. It looked realistic enough, but she hated it with a passion. She washed her short hair three times, using an excessive quantity of cherry scented shampoo, just because she could. When she finally felt clean, she wrapped herself up in a fluffy new towel and went into the bedroom to find some clean clothes. Then, dressed in leggings and a hoodie (but still with her belt and holster on) she went to the living room to find Rick building a card tower.

"Wow you smell different," he said without turning around.

"You still stink. Want the shower?"

He nodded, placing the last card on the structure.

"Impressive. Go get clean."

He laughed and left for the bathroom.

Sierra relaxed on the battered but fairly comfortable couch and listened to the soothing sound of running water, enjoying finally feeling clean. Suddenly, Rick put his head around the door. The shower was still on; he was dripping. And gaping.

"What happened to your hair?" he said to her. Sierra laughed.

"You'd make a rubbish detective. You don't notice anything."

"I was thinking about my card tower. The blonde hair was a wig?"

"Yep. D'you miss it?"

Rick thought about this. "No. You look good with short hair. I like it better."

"Thanks. Now get back in the shower!"

Rick laughed and closed the bathroom door again. Sierra smiled. Babysitting might be a rubbish duty, but at least Richard Castle was amusing. And hot... She gave herself a mental shake. She couldn't be thinking things like that at a time like this. She had to be alert.

At least he didn't know how much of a fan she really was. That would have been really awkward...


	7. WAITING GAME

CHAPTER 7 – WAITING GAME

Rick sauntered out of the bedroom wearing jeans and a wife beater. When he saw Sierra's amusement at his choice of outfit, he flexed his arms, and she produced more of that delicious laughter. He went to sit beside her on the couch.

"So... what do you do? When you're in a safe house, I mean?"

Sierra thought about her past experiences.

"Well. Usually I end up babysitting total arseholes, and they take guarding. Or scared idiots who try to escape. I guard, and try to make sure everything goes smoothly. But normally I have a partner, so someone to talk to, or to have sleep shifts with."

Rick nodded. "You don't think I'm an asshole do you? I mean, the tabloids are full of shit, you know that, right?"

Sierra grinned. He was cute when he was worried.

"I don't think you're an arsehole. And you're better conversation than most, I'll give you that."

Rick flashed her a grin. "You aren't bad yourself. I mean, the girlfriend murdering's a bit... but the ninja assassin quality kind of counters that. And Sophia was a bitch."

"You're very cold."

"I'm practical. And I kill people for a living too."

"Psychopath."

"At least I'm the well paid kind. How much do you get paid?"

"Lots. Not that I use it – it goes to my father, and on somewhere to stay when they make me take a vacation. But you usually find that the people in this job are the kind of people who don't spend too much time living an ordinary life, or a life where accumulating a lot of money is necessary."

"Do you see your father often?"

"Not for years. Anyway, none of your business."

"Ugh. I don't know _anything _about you. I didn't even know what your real hair was like until half an hour ago."

Sierra laughed. "It's better that way. Anyway, I'm not very interesting."

"I beg to differ."

"How about a game?"

Sierra groaned. "No."

"Come on. I'll make it interesting."

"I can see you're itching to tell me about it. Go ahead – it doesn't mean I'll play."

Rick's eyes twinkled. "I think you will."

Sierra shrugged.

"It's like truth or dare, but instead of dares, there are two more choices. Take off an item of clothing, or have a shot of whiskey."

"Whiskey's too nice."

"Don't have too many shots then."

Sierra laughed. "So we ask a question?"

"Yeah. And then you either answer, _truthfully_, or do one of the other two."

Sierra sighed. She could hold her drink. And she was wearing a lot of layers.

"Fine. But I get to drop out at any time."

"Fine. I knew you'd say yes."

"Don't gloat. I'm bored, that's the only reason I'm saying yes."

Rick laughed. "If you say so. You can go first."

"Thanks. I already know so much about you though... okay. Ah... why do you write crime novels?"

To her surprise, Rick poured a shot of whiskey and threw it back. She'd thought he'd want to talk about himself.

"My turn. What's your real name?"

Sierra took a shot too. He wasn't surprised. She looked at him as she swallowed, as if to say, you know you'll never know.

"Right. Why aren't you married?"

"Married?"

"Yeah. I mean, you're good looking. You're nice enough. You're _very _rich. Why not settle down?"

Rick tilted his head to one side. "I'd make a terrible husband. I'm unreliable; I drift around, I'm very erratic. And I'd be an even worse father."

"I don't think you'd be that bad."

"Thanks. But it's my decision. My turn." He grinned. "What makes you say I'm good looking?"

Sierra laughed. "Your body. Your face. Duh."

He winked. "Just wanted you to say it again."

"You're useless at your own game. Okay... what do you think my name is?"

Rick grinned. "Now that is a good question. If I get it right will you tell me?"

"No."

"Ah, but I think I'll see it in your eyes. Let's see... something cool. Unusual. Know what, I just want to say it. Nikita. Nikki for short."

Sierra laughed. "As in the original femme fatale? Love it."

"Okay, my turn, Nikki."

"My name's not Nikki."

"Fine, _Sierra_, Miss I'm-so-bad-I-just-have-a-code-name. Why did you become a spy?"

Sierra took another shot. She was cold, she wanted to keep the hoodie on.

"Where did you learn how to shoot?"

Rick grinned. "You taught me."

"Liar. New rule – lying means you have to do _both _the other things."

"Ooh, really getting into this." He took off the wife beater and drank the whiskey she poured him.

"Ah, me again. What shall we find out..? I know. How many people have you killed?"

Sierra winked. "What d'you do if you don't know?"

"I get another question. But first, how can you not know?"

"Does that count as the other question?"

"Uh, I guess it can. As long as you give an interesting answer."

Sierra smiled ruefully. "Well, I know how many people I've killed that I've been ordered to. But things like, I killed those guys in the car yesterday, but I don't know how many people were in there, or if all of them died."

Rick nodded. "I get it. Does it bother you?"

"It's my turn to ask. Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Only in my books."

Sierra nodded. She wondered how he would react. Taking another life... you were never the same again. She hoped he would never have to find out how it changed you.

"Right, my turn. And since you couldn't tell me your other number, what's your _number _number?"

"You what?"

"How many guys – or girls for that matter – have you slept with?"

Sierra grinned, and took off her hoodie. Rick sighed. She winked.

"One of them was a girl though..." she said.

Rick gasped.

"How is it that you find that hot?"

"Is that your question?"

"Know what? Sure. I've always wanted to know."

"Right. Well. You understand that I find naked women hot?"

"Yeah..."

"Two naked women's just double the fun."

"You're an idiot. And if that's true, guys are weird."

"My question. What is your biggest turn on?"

"Why do guys always ask sex stuff?"

"You just asked a sex thing too. Are you going to answer?"

Sierra poured herself a shot by way of response.

"Oh, mean. Why do you care if I know?"

_Because it's you_... She gave herself a little shake. That wasn't even true.

"Maybe I just like whiskey. My turn. Have you ever been in love?"

Rick smiled at her. "Nope. And I'll just throw that one right back – have you?"

"Nope."

"Pair of unlucky sods, aren't we?"

Sierra laughed again. "Maybe we'll get there one day. And your next question is... If you were a comic book character, who would you be?"

"Ooh, comic books, I like it. Batman."

"That's predictable."

"Then you shouldn't have asked. What happened to your mother?"

Sierra snatched up the whiskey before he'd even finished speaking. She was starting to feel it go to her head.

"We should eat something – not had food to absorb the alcohol."

"Later. Your turn."

"Right. Do you mind not knowing who your father is?"

Rick took off his jeans. "You've seen me in just my boxers before. This time I have socks too."

Sierra had to laugh, which she thought had been his intention. She'd been shaken after the mention of her mother, and he seemed to feel a little bad.

"Ooh, I have a good one. What do you really think of my books?"

Sierra grinned. That was a good one. She took off her shirt, and Rick admired her lacy bra.

"That was pointless. If you really hated them you'd have just told me. So I know you like them now."

Sierra laughed. "But you'll never hear me say it."

"Oh, my poor ego."

"My question. What will you do when you get back?"

Rick sighed. "You're gonna have to ask something else. I don't know."

Sierra narrowed her eyes. She knew her words were flowing more easily; whiskey had a way of loosening tongues.

"Why d'you want to know about me?"

"Writer's curiosity. Plus, you're hot. And interesting. And a mystery. Why do you hide yourself so much?"

Sierra slid out of her leggings, scooting up her belt and tightening it so it would stay on. It was elastic, standard issue – such a good idea. She got up, feeling Rick's eyes caress her body, and realising she liked it.

"On that note," she said, blushing a little, "I'm going to get something to eat. Watch the door. Can you still shoot when you're drunk?"

"I'm not drunk," he argued, but as he got up he stumbled a little. He put the cap on the whiskey. "What happens if we both fall asleep?"

"There are a lot of independent alarm systems. They'd wake us."

"So why can't we both sleep?"

"It's safer if you have a person up too."

"Are you afraid?"

Sierra looked at him. "I don't like not knowing my enemy. But I think we'll be okay. My bosses should come through; they'll do some digging, and send some people."

"You don't sound confident."

"I prefer being more prepared. Are you afraid?"

"Like I told you before, I don't have much to lose. But I don't want to die. So yes, a bit. But we're safe here."

"We should be."

"How would they find us?"

"Don't know. They shouldn't. We should be safe forever; they should never find us here. But it very rarely works that way."

"Why? Seems like a good system."

"Moles, pay-offs, mistakes, badly encrypted messages, telling too many people too much..."

"Being a spy must suck."

"Sometimes," she said, pouring milk on some cereal. "Sometimes it's fun."

"I don't think you like being yourself."

"Astute. But you don't either. You don't have to be the bad boy bachelor for the tabloids, but you keep up the image."

"Sells books."

"Maybe at first. But you're famous enough now that it wouldn't be necessary."

"Maybe we're just as weird as each other."

"Maybe."

Rick picked up a spoon and helped himself to some of her cereal. He expected her to swat him away but she didn't mind. Standing with him, drunk, in their underwear, in a safe house in the middle of nowhere, sharing a bowl of cereal... it was one of those moments she didn't want to break. Despite all her secrets, she almost felt as though he knew her. She almost trusted him.


	8. PLAYING SPY

CHAPTER 8 – PLAYING SPY

Rick stood in the doorway to the bedroom watching Sierra's chest rise and fall with her gentle breathing. She looked beautiful when she slept... He had thought this before. He knew he couldn't go down that road with her, and tried to think of her beauty as deceptive. She seemed so harmless – but in reality she was a ruthless assassin who had taken more lives than even _she _could count. He thought there must be something wrong with him – he wasn't put off by that at all.

There was just something about her. He trusted her; it was as though she had an aura of good despite all of the bad things she'd done. He knew there must be a story, some sequence of events which would explain 'what a nice girl like her was doing in a place like this'. He laughed quietly. He'd have to use that line on her some day.

She was still sleeping. He was supposed to be keeping watch, but it was dark outside and there was nothing to see. He flopped down on the couch and faced the front door. Which was when he saw her phone.

It was just sitting there, and she hadn't locked it – she must have been more drunk than she looked. It was _begging _him to look at it – who wouldn't want to play with a spy gadget? And maybe he'd be able to find out something about her. Even just her name. For some reason he thought that was important – a name would make her a person rather than a code, rather than a killing machine.

He picked it up, half expecting an alarm to go off – it might have had fingerprint recognition like the door. It didn't, though. He pressed the menu button. So far so good. He scrolled through the icons, looking at their names, but nothing popped. He clicked on 'Files' and found a list of names. He flicked through them and grinned – he was there. Curious, he clicked his own name and read the short biography that she had. He frowned – it didn't do him justice. There was a picture too – the one from his arrest. He went back to the list, wondering if one of the names was Sierra's. If he found the right one he would see the picture... He started at the end of the alphabet for entertainment purposes – there were only about 20 files so he didn't think it would make much difference, and he liked the name 'Zuckerman'. It wasn't her though.

He was so engrossed in his task that he didn't notice Sierra wake up and come into the room.

"Castle, what the hell are you doing?" she yelled. He gasped and dropped her phone, scrambling over the back of the couch to get away from the incriminating object. He had been almost done – just Beckett Johanna and Armstrong Sally to go. He didn't think she was on there though. She didn't look like a Johanna or a Sally.

"I'm sorry-" he began, but he knew it was pointless. She would never trust him now.

"What were you doing? Why were you looking through the files?"

"I.. I..."

"Yes? I'm waiting!"

"Sorry! I was looking myself up, I wanted to see what my file said. And then I wondered if maybe... if maybe one of them was you and I could find out your name..." he trailed off miserably.

"Well none of them are me, and to you, my name is Sierra."

She was still angry, but less so now that she was pretty sure he hadn't found anything.

"Look, I didn't read anything I swear. I was just looking at the pictures."

"Fine. But from now on I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"You have to sleep. Anyway, your phone wasn't even locked."

"Oh, so now it's my fault you're a nosy bastard?"

"I prefer spy."

"Pathetic. You got caught. We don't get caught."

"Sorry, I'll try to do better next time."

Sierra almost wanted to laugh. He looked so cute and defensive. And it had been her fault – he shouldn't have looked, but she was the professional, she shouldn't have been so careless.

"Just stay out of my stuff, okay?"

"Okay. I really am sorry..."

She nodded. At least he hadn't found anything. She checked the activity log – he had been going through the alphabet backwards – so Castle. Anyway, she'd caught him just in time. As the relief washed over her she found herself forgiving him.

"Why do you care so damn much about knowing my name anyway?"

"I want to know your story. I want to know why you're a spy."

"But, why? Why do you care? And what would my name tell you?"

"Names are important. And I want you to be a person – I don't like calling you a code. And I care because I like you."

"Like me? Castle, I killed your girlfriend."

"We've been over that. She was a bitch. I mean, don't do it again, but I forgive you. You were just doing your job."

Sierra sighed. "It's not good to hide behind the job. Whatever the reason, I'm still a killer?"

"Why don't you want me to like you?"

"Where's the whiskey? I'll take the shot."

"No, but seriously. Why'd it matter if I liked you? We'll either die in a few days, or if we don't I'll be going back to my life and you'll go back to yours. So why shouldn't I like you?"

She groaned. "No reason. You can like me if you want. And we're not going to die."

"Why don't you want friends?"

"Leave it."

"No. Just tell me. Give me something. Anything. Anything real."

Sierra didn't know why she was letting him get to her, but she felt as if he was in her mind, tugging at all the neat little partitions that kept everything where it should be, that kept her from falling apart.

"Shut up, Castle!"

"I'll shut up when you tell me something."

"I'm not going to tell you anything! Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I'm not allowed to break cover."

"I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Not the point. _I _can't tell anyone."

"Do you want to? If you were allowed, would you tell me?"

"No!"

"Even something stupid. Something that doesn't matter."

"You should get some rest. It's my turn to be up."

"I'll go when you tell me. Anything."

"Just go!"

"No! What difference would it make? Something totally insignificant; anything about yourself. Please. In case I die..."

She could have slapped him. She wanted to. But she also wanted to curl up in his arms and cry her eyes out. There was a long pause in which they both glared at each other, refusing to back down. Then Sierra blinked.

"Purple," she said softly.

"What?"

"Purple. My favourite colour is purple. Now get the hell out of this room before I shoot you," she muttered. He left, not knowing whether to feel sad or triumphant. He had won; she had told him something. It had been small – but it proved that she was human. And when she had been angry... she had seemed human too. There was a trace of something; sadness, pain, guilt... he couldn't put his finger on it, but he got to her, he could tell. He didn't want to alienate her by pushing her too hard, but he longed to know more about her. She was fascinating.

Sierra collapsed on the couch, completely drained even though she had just slept for six hours. Damn that man! He made her feel so strange... she hadn't felt so exposed since... Since that night 8 years ago. Since the night she had been recruited.


	9. WALLS

CHAPTER 9 – WALLS

Sierra touched the floor with her nose, then pushed her arms up, her body as straight as a board. She put one hand behind her head and did another twenty press ups one handed. She switched to her other hand, then to sit ups, then to stretching – yoga, almost. But... jokingly, during her training in London, Victor had called it killer yoga. She felt a pang of guilt and pain. Victor was dead. She had known him since she was nineteen – that had to mean something, right? But what really upset her was she hadn't known him – he had been her partner for eight years, but she didn't even know his real name – and he had never known hers. She hadn't known anything about him, his family, his history... He was older than her, he had been about twenty-three when they met. In killer yoga. Sierra laughed.

_She stood in the corner of the gym. It was part of a huge underground army barracks just outside of London. She felt strange being so near such a famous city when she had never seen it – she had been flown straight to the base. _

_The black shorts and army green t-shirt she had been given felt strange – despite her well toned body, she was sure they looked odd. She surveyed the other recruits – she thought she was the youngest. Most of them seemed to be in their mid-twenties. Post college, probably. She felt uneducated and stupid. She was also late. They had started in October – she would be behind in everything._

_And yoga? She had thought spies would learn martial arts, but instead they had been told they would be doing yoga..._

"_Hello. You new?"_

"_Hello," she said, mimicking his British accent._

"_That's very good, but you don't fool me."_

_She sighed. "I'll get better," she said, hitting her t's harder in an attempt to recreate the crispness Brits seemed to have._

"_What's your name?"_

"_I'm K- Sierra."_

"_Nice save, Sierra. Don't worry, it'll get easier. But they ask you all the time – and if you say your real name you get a rotten punishment like latrine duty for a week, or running round the room singing in your underwear."_

_Sierra laughed. "Singing in your underwear?"_

"_Don't believe me? Just you wait. He does it to everyone."_

"_Who does?"_

"_Gunner."_

_"That's a name?"_

"_He's one of our instructors. You really are new."_

_"What's your name?"_

"_K- Victor."_

_Sierra laughed and he winked at her._

"_It's a pleasure to meet you," he said with a grin. She smiled back weakly._

"_Fake it, Sierra."_

"_What?"_

"_Smile. You're going to have to do better than that, or you'll be singing in your underwear before lunchtime!"_

_Sierra grinned, pushing back all the pain into a place inside herself she hadn't even known existed. It hurt like hell, and it was hard. But Victor smiled too. She kept it up._

"_Tell you what. I bet you a song in the canteen with no underwear at all, that I won't have to sing in my underwear this month."_

"_You don't believe he does it?"_

_"I believe it. I don't believe he'll do it to me."_

"_For an American newcomer you sure are confident."_

_Sierra must have been a better actress than she'd thought. She winked, ignoring the knife sliding into her heart._

"_Will you take the bet?"_

_Victor held out his hand and she shook it firmly._

…

_Victor stepped up onto the table, a blush already flowing onto his face. Sierra giggled. He began tapping his feet on the table. People turned to look, and began to clap along. Charlie sat down at the piano and played the familiar chords. Sierra laughed. It was a fantastic choice. Victor peeled off his shirt and threw it at her, then unzipped his trousers and pulled them down with his boxers, flinging them in her direction too. Sierra gasped. She hadn't been quite sure he would go through it. _

_He stared into her eyes, singing straight to her, ignoring the cheers of their classmates, dancing and clicking his fingers. He had a great American accent – the perfect Billy Joel. _

_About halfway through the song she realised he might be making a point. A point about them... And boy was he cute._

_"Remember how I found you there, alone in your electric chair, I told you dirty jokes until you smiled..."_

_All the boys were singing along by this time, and Sierra was lost in a sea of cheering bodies. The song ended and Victor got down – he made a beeline for her still stark naked save his combat boots. _

"_What d'you think?" he asked._

_She handed him his boxers._

"_It's alright." Her English accent was perfect now, even Gunner couldn't find fault with it. Victor left his boxers off and looked down._

"_Just alright?"_

_Sierra followed the direction of his eyes._

"_It's lovely, Victor, now put your shorts on."_

_He grinned and put on his boxers._

"_Want a drink?"_

_"We have yoga in the morning."_

_"Not yoga. Killer yoga. And being hungover makes killer yoga easier."_

"_I don't want a drink."_

"_Me neither, stupid idea. Want to go for a walk?"_

_"Where? Around the base? We'd get shot."_

_Victor laughed. "We could escape for an evening."_

_"How?"_

"_If you agree it's a date, I'll tell you."_

_Sierra thought about it. In a month she had become so used to pretending, forgetting the girl she used to be, growing into Sierra, that she almost felt ready. She knew what Victor wanted. She had known by the way he was looking at her. And she thought she might want it too. She was young, and she had a feeling Victor would be a lot better than the limited selection she'd been treated to in Senior year and her first semester at Stanford. Limited in both quantity, and the individual capacity of the parties involved._

_She bit her lip, then nodded. "Okay. It's a date."_

Sierra kicked her leg into the air again, finishing her killer yoga routine. She missed Victor. They hadn't been together for years – their brief 'relationship' had quickly dissolved into a sort of friends with benefits situation. It had been inevitable – if your job was to hide your emotions, it was impossible to be emotionally available. But he'd had her back, and she'd had his. And he was very, very much more than alright. She realised she had acted as though they knew each other, even though they didn't. She wished she had known him just a little more. Poor guy.

Rick was standing in the doorway. She didn't know how long he had been there, but her gut said no time at all – she would have felt it.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Sierra thought about Victor again, and went to put her hand on Rick's shoulder.

"No. I get it. I know why you want to know me. And I'm sorry that you can't."

He nodded, and instinctively pulled her into a hug. She tensed, but he held her tight and she found herself almost relaxing in his arms. He laughed into her hair.

"You need a massage. Or some good sex."

"What?"

"You need to relax. Really relax. I'm good at both..."

She laughed. "You can give me a massage if I get to pick our next activity."

"What'll you pick?"

"Depends on the massage."

"Can we go in the bedroom?"

Sierra thought about it.

"Leave the bedroom door open and keep an eye out."

"But you can't keep an eye out. You'll be relaxing."

Sierra laughed. "If you can really get me to relax, I'll tell you something else about myself."

"Promise?"

"Only on the level of purple."

"I don't mind. I like things on that level."

Sierra wondered what the hell she was doing. She was about to let Rick give her a massage. But... she was bored. And she'd never had a massage. She laughed at herself. Now she was a little nervous. Rick fetched a towel from the bathroom and handed it to her. She suddenly registered that she would have to take her clothes off.

"You can trust me," he said smiling.

"I'm keeping my gun with me."

"You can't shoot me – you're protecting me."

"Right. But I can knock you out with it."

"Mean."

"Hypothetical. I won't have to, will I?"

"'Course not. Shout when you're ready. I'll try to find candles and Enya."

"No Enya. Or candles, in fact."

"You're so boring. Incense?"

"We don't have incense. Go away," she said, shooing him out of the room. He closed the door, and she took off her shirt. She ran her fingers over the spider's web of scars on her torso and sighed. Again. Why did she need him to like her body? He knew what her job was, he would expect the scars. And if he preferred clear skin, that was his problem. It had all been his idea.

She undid her bra and touched the scar in the centre of her chest. That one had been a bitch. At least Rick would never see it. She slid off her leggings and after a deep breath, her underwear as well. She was plucky, it would be fun. Rick might even be surprised. She heaped the clothes into a pile then lay on her front on the bed and put the towel over herself. She wondered why people who weren't holed up in safe-houses with hot authors ever got massages. It was just so awkward.

"Come on writer boy," she called, and she heard him open the door.

"I couldn't find incense."

"Because we don't have any."

"It's like we're married. Shh. You're relaxing now."

Sierra shuddered at the thought. Marriage. Yuck. She heard Rick rub his hands together and blow on them – warming them up for her.

"Ready?"

"Blow my mind, writer boy," she mumbled.

Rick stared at her body. He had known she was beautiful – he had seen her in her underwear before. But he had never looked at her properly. The dim light of the bedroom gave her skin a golden glow; the shinier, scarred skin was noticeable, but not at all negative. Rick felt the urge to trace his finger along each jagged line; to embrace this part of her that he found so fascinating.

He shook himself. He was thinking as though she was... as though he... He bit down on the inside of his mouth, then pressed his fingers into her back. He was a good masseur, he had learned from a girlfriend in college. Sierra was very quiet – he wondered what she was thinking as he felt her muscles first tense at his touch, then slowly loosen.

Sierra felt herself drifting away into darkness; she put her head on one side and opened her eyes to make sure she was still awake. She saw Rick standing beside the bed – he didn't see her looking, and she quickly closed her eyes again so he wouldn't find out. She tried not to make a sound as his hands ran over her body. She had thought it would be difficult – but it wasn't really erotic. It was sensual, and tender, and even... no, she wouldn't think 'loving' – but it wasn't sexual; neither of them were thinking of it that way. He was bringing them closer on a different level, trying to soothe her into friendship.

Half an hour later she felt like a puddle on the bed. Rick was sitting on it beside her, combing his fingers through her hair. When he finally took his hands away she had to stop herself from begging him to put them back.

"So?"

She turned her head to face him. "That was the first massage I've ever had. I like strawberry milkshakes. And you're the only person not related to me who has ever played with my hair."

Rick grinned.

"Three things."

"I'm very relaxed."

"What do you want to do now?"

"Honestly? I want to sleep."

"Me too – just looking at you makes me drowsy."

Sierra laughed. "Then let's sleep."

"Excellent plan. Is it okay if we both do?"

"I'm so relaxed I don't care. It should be fine. If not... at least I'll die happy."

She realised too late that she'd implied she wanted to sleep in the same bed as him; that it would make her happy. He got up.

"I'll take the bathroom first – so you can get changed."

She laughed inside that he'd said changed rather than dressed. He really was sweet – nothing like the papers made him look. She pulled on a t-shirt and panties then tapped on the bathroom door. He opened it. He was brushing his teeth. She raised her eyebrows. He was brushing his teeth with her toothbrush.

"We bought you one of your own."

"I like yours better. It tastes like cherries."

"How can mint toothpaste taste like cherries?"

"I guess you must taste like cherries."

He handed her the brush without rinsing it. She popped it straight into her mouth – she was so used to being confident it came naturally to her when people were watching. Being with Rick was... odd. She could feel the sexual tension zinging between them all the time, especially when they were so close together – but she was so relaxed, and even the toothbrush thing felt more like a laugh than something more than that. She decided Rick must have been being very careful not to put pressure on her.

He left the room for her to finish up, and when she went through to the bedroom he had made up the bed, but wasn't in it.

"Pick a side," he said with a smile. "Or, if you want to do a starfish, I'm happy with the couch."

"Do a starfish?"

Rick winked, then threw himself onto the bed, stretching his arms and legs out in a star. Sierra grinned.

"I've never slept like that."

"You should try it. It's very liberating."

She laughed again as he rolled off the bed.

"Go on, just try it."

She flopped backwards in the same position he had just been in, and grinned up at him.

"It really is comfy. Don't know why I never thought of this..."

Rick winked, then shoved her gently to her side.

"I was lying about the couch."

She laughed and slid under the comforter, closing her eyes and letting the relaxation wash over her. She couldn't decide whether he'd broken down her walls or strengthened them. She came to the conclusion that it was a bit of both, and maybe walls were just too simple an explanation.

Rick listened to Sierra breathe and felt it soothe him just as his hands had soothed her. He told himself it was because he was afraid, because he was alone and away from home, and people were trying to kill him. He told himself he was just comforted by the company. He told himself the growing feelings he had for her were only in his imagination, and that he liked being in bed with her solely because he felt protected.

Sierra had a dream, in which she told herself over and over that it wasn't real.

Neither of them were convinced.


	10. A SINGLE THREAD

CHAPTER 10 – A SINGLE THREAD

Rick was woken by a horrifying scream. He sat up quickly and looked around the room; his first thought was the alarm was going off and people were there to kill him. But the sound wasn't an alarm – it was coming from the woman in bed with him.

She had thrown off the comforter and her t-shirt was hardly on her – she had been clawing at it, writhing around on the bed as if in agony. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her screams tugged at Rick's heart. What he had seen in the car had been bad – but this was something else. He called her.

"Sierra!"

But it wasn't her name. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, adjusting her shirt so she wouldn't be embarrassed when she woke up. Her eyes snapped open, a look of terror on her face.

She blinked and saw Rick's face above hers.

"Sierra? Are you okay?"

She shuddered. She'd dreamt of killing again – this time she had killed first Victor and then Rick... She nodded. She was still shaking, but she was used to forcing herself back to reality after a nightmare. He didn't seem to believe her.

"Are you sure? You were..."

She smiled ruefully and got up, heading to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. He didn't take the hint and followed her.

"What was that?"

"It was just a dream, Castle."

"That was not just a dream."

Sierra turned off the tap. "Yes, it was."

"People don't have dreams like that unless..."

"Castle, I've seen a lot of things. Sometimes I have bad dreams. Thanks for waking me, but I'm fine now."

"Really?"

"Yes," she lied.

"Do you want anything?"

"I'm going to go back to bed."

"Can I stay?"

She smiled. "Sure. Look, I didn't mean to be rude to you-"

"I know. And I shouldn't have pushed you. It was just a dream."

She got into bed and watched him lie down beside her, turning away from her towards the edge of the bed.

"Goodnight Castle," she whispered when she thought he was asleep.

"Goodnight Sierra," he whispered back. She stayed facing him as she closed her eyes, willing her mind to rest as well.

She woke Rick an hour later, thrashing around in her sleep. He pulled her towards him and woke her, this time keeping her locked in his embrace. She settled in his grip and he gently stroked her hair to lull her back to sleep. She knew she should move; that their roles were wrong; that she was letting it go too far – but she felt safe.

Rick fell asleep with Sierra still in his arms. He felt almost like a father comforting a child – which was disturbing on more than one level, but mostly because he had a huge crush on her. He thought it was scary how a person could have two such different sides. Sierra was so strong when she was awake – she had an impenetrable shield; she was always in control. But asleep she couldn't defend herself; asleep her demons could find her and attack her until she lost all control.

He wondered what kept her sane. No one knew her, no one loved her, she was alone. And now – she was being chased because of her job – she had to put herself into the line of fire to protect him. He wondered why she did that. And he wondered what would happen to them. She had said their pursuers would find them eventually – it seemed to him their lives were hanging by a thread, a thread that could easily be broken. They didn't even know who was after them.

He fell asleep worrying, and when he woke up again Sierra was gone. He breathed in to smell pancakes and freshly brewed coffee, and smiled. His smile faded when he remembered the events of the night, but he tried not to worry about it.

Sierra was in the kitchen, still dressed in the t-shirt and underwear, but with a thigh holster on to hold her glock. It gave Rick a tomb raider vibe.

"Morning, Lara," he said to her. She laughed without turning around.

"Wouldn't I need two to be Lara?"

"I suppose... Do you have two?"

She took a plate of pancakes out of the warming oven and put them on the table, catching his eye as she looked at him.

"Is that a fantasy of yours, writer boy?"

He laughed. "Might be. Want to keep things fair by telling me one of yours?"

Sierra grinned. "Peace and quiet."

Rick picked up a pancake and bit into it.

"Nice."

"You can tell my superiors – maybe I'll get a promotion for taking such good care of you."

"Maybe you will." He took the cup of coffee she handed him.

"Look, I'm sorry about-"

"Forget it," he said gently. "Everyone has things to deal with."

Sierra took a bite of pancake. "Want to go outside today? I think we need to."

"Go outside where?"

"It's sunny. We could go to the river."

Rick laughed and put on a silly voice. "Don't go to the river Sierra!"

She laughed too.

"I'm bored with being in hiding."

"I'm not. I'm a little bored with this house – but being in hiding's fun."

An hour later they were both showered, dressed, and ready to go. Sierra put a couple of towels and her AK47 in a bag, as well as some food and water bottles. She amused Rick no end by strapping her back up piece into another thigh holster on her other leg – she had put on a black vest and tiny little shorts.

"I'm afraid I can't do the long braid," she teased as he drooled at her.

"I'll imagine it," he breathed. She handed him another gun.

"Do you have a James Bond holster thing?"

"Sorry, it wouldn't be big enough. Just tuck it in the back of your jeans."

"So boring. But kind of cool."

"What's the code for the door?"

"Ooh, mean time to ask. It's 41319."

"Good boy." She picked up her phone, then opened the door. "Let's go."

Sierra smiled as the sunshine warmed her bare skin. It wasn't at all far to the river, and they walked along it, watching the water sparkle. They reached a little beach where the water pooled and was calmer. Sierra took off her shoes and spread out a towel to lie on. Instead of taking the other towel, Rick lay on hers, meaning they were very close. Sierra let it go; she liked being close to him anyway.

After a while, she sat up and took off her shoes and went to paddle in the water. Rick sat up to watch her. There was a slight breeze that blew her short hair to one side, and the sun silhouetted her figure as she looked down into the river. He wished he could take a picture; she was so beautiful. She turned around to catch him looking, and flashed him a smile.

"You hungry, writer boy?"

He gaped at her until he realised she meant actual food.

"You're mean."

"I'm sorry. But you're so funny. Come on, I'm starving."

Once they had eaten, Sierra offered to teach him how to fight.

"You mean like that crazy yoga type thing?"

"Kind of. That but faster. Have you ever done combat training?"

"Not really. But I was in a lot of fights at school."

"You think you could take me?"

He looked her up and down. "Take your guns off."

"Can't. Not safe. But I promise not to use them."

"Fine. Well, I don't know. Maybe. I'm stronger than I look."

Sierra laughed. "Okay. Give it a shot."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"We should have a safe word."

"You need one, not me."

"Fine. Apples. The safe word is apples."

Sierra laughed. "Go for it."

Rick hopped from one foot to the other, balling his hands into fists. He darted forward, swinging out to hit her, but somehow she was in a different place and he ended up stumbling instead. She grinned. He tried again, but missed again.

"Third time lucky," she said with a wink. He gritted his teeth with frustration, then closed in on her. This time she caught his fist and somehow used his momentum to flip him onto the ground. He grunted.

"Sorry," she said, offering him a hand to help him up. He got up on his own and narrowed his eyes.

"Tell you what," she said. "I have so much training, it's an unfair advantage. We should do something to make it fair."

"Like what?"

Sierra thought about it.

"There are some handcuffs in the bag. Cuff my hands behind my back."

"What?"

"Go on."

"You're crazy. And why do you have handcuffs with you?"

Sierra laughed. "So many layers to the Sierra onion."

Rick got the cuffs and locked her wrists together. "You're going to regret this," he said with a smile.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked.

"So, so much."

"Bring it," she laughed. He put his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. She smiled, not resisting – then when he was about to throw her down she bent her knees and kicked him hard on the kneecaps, then swung herself so he fell over backwards. He cushioned her fall and she turned around, straddling his chest so his arms were pinned too. He blinked; it had been over in seconds.

"Teach me how to do that," he said groggily. She grinned and got off him, letting him stand up. Then she undid the cuffs with the key in her back pocket and took them off.

"It's all about using your opponent's strength against them..." she began. She went on to explain some basic techniques, and they continued training until it was almost dark. They walked back and Sierra let Rick type the code in to unlock the door – but she dragged him back out almost as soon as he'd crossed the threshold, closing the door again. She grabbed his hand and ran back towards the river, pulling him with her. He was smart enough not to make a sound or ask questions, but as they ran he felt fear flood his body.


	11. LOST

CHAPTER 11 – LOST

Sierra slowed to let Rick keep pace with her, and stopped altogether when they got back to their beach by the river. She dropped her phone, stamped on it, and threw it in the water, then put a finger to her lips. Rick moved close to her ear.

"What the hell?" he whispered.

"Someone had been there," she said quietly.

"How do you know? We were there for what, three seconds?"

"I just know. It was different. My stuff wasn't where I'd left it."

"You can't be sure."

"I'm sure enough. I felt something off. I have to trust my instincts."

"What are we going to do now?"

"Get away. When we're far enough out I'll call my boss and see what's going on."

"Get away how?"

"Good question. Can't use the gate, if they've been in they'll see... Are you a strong swimmer? And be honest, no macho stuff."

"I'm alright."

"Think you can swim across the river?"

Rick looked at it. It was pretty wide but the current didn't seem to strong.

"Yeah."

"Right. We're going to do that, and then head straight on – they'll think we'll go down the river, it makes more sense."

"If it makes more sense shouldn't we go down the river?"

"They'll catch us. Give me your gun in case it falls out."

Rick nodded and handed her the weapon. She put it in the bag, undid her holsters, and put her guns in too. They waded into the cold water, gasping as they tried to swim. Sierra held her bag above her head – Rick was stunned by her strength. They made it across and shivered on the bank. Sierra took out two towels and told Rick to get moving.

"It'll warm you up. Come on."

He shivered. "At least if we were caught we'd be warm."

"Only because hell is warm."

"We might have fought them off."

"I don't want to risk it, not when we don't have any kind of advantage."

They were walking quickly over the rough ground, heading into a forest. The trees would offer protection, but they would offer it to their enemies too. They needed to get to a road – they had to move faster.

Rick was completely lost – he had no idea what was going on. He was scared, it was dark, Sierra was clearly preoccupied, and for the first time since this had all started he wished more than anything that he could go home. He forced himself to keep quiet and keep moving; they were almost running, dodging in and out of the trees in the dim moonlight.

"Reminds me of horror movies," Rick panted to Sierra. She laughed.

"Me too. Come on. I think I hear a road."

"Come on, come on. You like telling me what to do, don't you?"

"I'm always in charge."

"Always on top too?"

"Only you, Castle, would ask that now."

"Why? We might be about to die, I want to know."

"You want to know _that_?"

"You won't tell me your name."

"Yes. Almost always."

"You're lying, you just said that to fit with the image."

"If we're still free in the morning I'll tell you the truth."

"Promise?"

"It'll be good incentive for you to shut up and do what I say."

Rick laughed and listened harder. He thought he could hear the road now as well. They continued to hurry through the forest, and the sound of cars got louder and louder. She wished she could check her GPS but she'd had to destroy the phone in case it was being tracked – which should have been impossible... They got to the road in another ten minutes.

"Now what?" Rick asked. At this hour, the majority of vehicles passing were trucks. Sierra smiled and shook a hand through her wet hair. She had dropped her towel somewhere in the forest. She adopted the usual hitch hiker pose, standing at the side of the road with her thumb up.

"Can you do a British accent?" she asked Rick as he adjusted the cap she'd given him.

"A bit of one," he said in an overly posh imitation of the Queen's English.

"Right. Don't say much then. But do that. I'm going to say we're on holiday."

Rick nodded just as a truck pulled over. A grubby, red-neck driver leered at Sierra.

"Where you headed?" he asked her. She batted her eyelashes.

"We're hitching across the US – on holiday. So anywhere's fine. Where are you going?"

"Virginia – Richmond."

"Wow, that would be amazing."

"It'll take about 6 hours. What's your name, darlin'?"

"Sally. This is Ryan. He doesn't say much," she added conspiratorially.

"Well jump in. Hurry up, I don't have all day," he said to Rick as he followed Sierra into the cab.

"I'm Clayton. Nice to meet you," the driver said as he pulled out onto the road again.

"Yeah, nice," Sierra said quietly. Rick watched as she played the part of the flirty tourist. He wondered if Clayton saw through it. He wondered if he would have seen through it if she'd been getting into his car.

"You're wet," Clayton observed.

"Moonlit swimming, you know?" Sierra said, looking sideways at him. Rick was pretending to sleep; his cap was covering almost his entire face.

"In April?"

"Well we're only here in April. Besides, it's colder in England."

"Right. How do you like the US then?"

"It's interesting. Nice. The people are great," she said, flashing a smile.

The journey passed much faster for Rick than for Sierra – he really did fall asleep, and she was left to entertain Clayton. When they eventually clambered out of the cab 6 hours later she was struggling not to yawn – she thought even flirty Sally would have been bored. He left them outside a motel but as soon as he was gone Sierra set about stealing another car. She had to break the window – she didn't have her kit with her. The alarm beeped but she disabled it within seconds – people probably wouldn't notice. She swept the glass off the seat and Rick thoughtfully put his towel on it for her. They got in and she drove off.

"Where are we going?"

"Don't know. Road trip I guess – once we're away from Richmond I'll try to call in from a payphone."

"And what will they say?"

"I don't know. I smashed my phone so they can't send me a location – we'll get plain old directions if we get anything – they might just say hide out. Or there might be a mole, and they'll trace the location of the phone call and tell the guys chasing us where we are."

"You sound so optimistic," he said sarcastically, looking at her angry expression.

"I haven't had a very good night – I'm sorry if I'm not in the best of moods."

"At least we're still alive. And you stole another car."

"Stealing a car is a good thing?"

"Sure. For some reason, I find it really hot."

"You're a weird one, I'll say that."

"Does 5am count as morning?"

"Probably."

"Then you _probably _have to tell me something."

"You seriously haven't forgotten that?"

"You haven't either."

"Alright. It depends on the guy."

"Depends how?"

"It just... depends. Some guys are on top guys. Some guys you can do either and you usually end up doing both. And then other things..."

"What am I?"

"What?"

"You heard."

_You're a slam me against the wall, fuck my brains out guy. _She grinned. "I'd definitely be on top."

"But you're a special case."

"Sophia was on top too."

"Not always."

"If you say so."

"I'm usually on top, okay?"

"Sure you are, Ricky."

"I'm manly, okay? Just because I'm a writer..."

Sierra laughed. "You look honestly upset."

"I am honestly upset. I know you can take me in a fight, but in the bedroom-"

"I believe you. I do," she said through her giggles.

"You don't. I'll show you. I'm _great_."

"Prove it."

Rick gaped. "What?"

She laughed more. "Not sex. I mean, prove you're a manly romancer. What would you say if this was a date?"

"You mean, _to-get-you-into-bed_?" he asked, putting on a silly voice.

"Yup. What do you say to the girls, Castle? When you're not falling off your bar stool..."

"Stop it."

"Okay, okay. Off you go."

"Have we met yet?"

"No. First date."

"Why are we in the car?"

"We're driving somewhere. Does it matter?"

"Why am I not driving?"

"Because it's not your car."

"It's not yours either."

"So far you've shown your date you like bickering."

"We don't bicker. We have banter."

"Whatever."

"Ooh that sounds hot in your accent. Okay. Date time. So – what's your name?"

"Sally. What's yours?"

"Sally? Sally's a slut though."

"She didn't sleep with him. Stop deviating."

"Fine. I'm _Clayton_."

"Lovely to meet you Clayton."

"Lovely to meet you too," he said staring at her chest.

"Eyes up, writer boy."

"Sally likes it when guys ogle her."

"Sally's a slut. Getting to be on top with a slut hardly even counts."

"Then you can't be Sally."

"Fine. I'm Nikki then."

"Like it. Okay, I'll stick to Rick."

"You want Nikki to stick to Rick?"

"Talking dirty huh? So, Nikki, where would you like to eat?"

"I like pizza."

"Tough, we're getting strawberry shakes."

Sierra laughed. "Fine. But you just lost the second date."

"We'll have to get it on tonight then."

"Is this what you're saying to Nikki?"

"Sure."

"She's about to stop the car."

"She's sexy when she's mad though. So sexy."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the way her eyes narrow and her mouth hardens. Mmm."

"So where do you want to get those shakes?"

"Drive in. Then we can watch a movie somewhere."

"For you to feel her up in the back row?"

"Only if she starts something."

"Will she?"

"She loves strawberry shakes. There's no knowing what they might do to her."

"Right. Keep talking to her then. She's bored."

"Okay. Nikki, do you have a job?"

"Yes, I'm a stripper."

"What?"

"Nikki is kind of a stripper name. But I'm also a cop. I just strip for the extra cash."

"Oh..."

"What about you?"

"I'm, uh... I'm a writer."

"Ooh, what kind? Have you written anything I might have read?"

"I'm a crime novelist – Richard Castle."

"Nice!"

"You know my books?"

"I love them."

"Wait, is that Nikki or Sierra who loves them?"

"Nikki."

"I guess it doesn't really matter. Neither of them are real."

"True. Sierra's the one you're usually with though."

"I wish I knew you."

"If you did, you'd wish you didn't."

"I think you're wrong."

"You always will."

"Right. Or you could tell me."

Sierra sighed. "Look, master of love, even if I did tell you things about me like, I don't know, my real name, stuff I've done, whatever – that still wouldn't mean you knew me. Do you think that because I've read an extensive file on you I actually know you?"

"I think in the last couple of days you've gotten to know me pretty well."

"I know more about your personality than I did. But we all alter ourselves when we're with people – we want them to get a certain impression of us."

"Very philosophical. But in that case, no one knows anyone."

"Mm. Maybe that's what it is then," she said distantly, staring out of the broken window, thinking of Victor again.

"What's the matter?"

"Aside from the obvious?"

"No, it's not that. They've always been chasing us. You're sad like... more sad. Sad about something you can't fix."

"You're good at reading people. Yes, I am. My friend died."

"Victor?"

"How do you know?"

"I heard you on the phone, when we were in the motel."

"Oh. Good at eavesdropping too then. Yes, Victor."

"That's army code too. What was his real name?"

"Don't know. I wouldn't tell you if I did, but I never knew his name anyway."

"How long did you know him?"

"Eight years. We were partners fairly often."

"Did you love him?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"In your line of work lots of people must die. But you're so sad."

"No. I didn't love him. I liked him very much, and at one point I thought I might love him. But I realised I didn't. Not like that."

"You slept with him though?"

Sierra laughed in spite of her sadness. "How did you guess?"

"The way you talk about him. I'm sorry."

"Thanks. You'd have liked him, I think. He thought you were funny."

"But I never met him."

"He was driving the car that time."

"Oh..." Rick drifted off into silence, thinking about the pain Sierra must have been feeling about the death of her friend that she had hidden so well while they were at the safe house.

"I don't have many friends," she said into the silence. "Now I have even fewer."

"I'm your friend."

"Thanks, Castle. But you're not. Right now, you're my job."

He sensed her need to talk had evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, and joined her in staring at the dark road. Maybe she was just a lost cause.


	12. TRUST

CHAPTER 12 – TRUST

The voice on the phone was another she had never heard before. Rick waited in the car, but he could hear most of what she said anyway. She was arguing with whoever she was talking to...

_We've been compromised, there was someone there!_

_Well of course it wasn't recorded, they got in without setting the alarm off! But I know someone was in there._

_I just know. My instincts are why I'm alive._

_Go back? You have to be joking. They'll kill us both._

_There is, okay. It's not safe._

_I don't care if the orders are from the queen herself, I'm not taking him back!_

_Insubordination? Come on, whatever your name is, I can't just go back and take us to our deaths._

_My decision? What about the back up?_

_No information? How can you have no information? I was told 3 days ago that they would be on their way._

_Then I can't take him back. I'll be in touch again, but right now I just have to get him somewhere safe. My orders were to do that and they came from someone higher up than you._

_I don't believe this is from 'the top' – whoever the damn top is. Tell them the safe house is compromised and I'm taking him somewhere that isn't._

_I don't care if that's not the information you have, just tell them!_

She slammed the phone down.

"Did you get all that?" she asked Rick as she got back into the car. He nodded.

"So what'll we do?"

"I have some money, and a supposedly untraceable credit card. We'll have to find somewhere to stay... somewhere out of the way. And then we'll have to move on in the morning."

"As in, a road trip?"

Sierra laughed. "Yep, you could say that."

"Where'll we be going?"

"Doesn't matter really. Away from New York."

"Can we go to LA?"

"Seriously?"

"Why not? Good long road trip..."

"You're an idiot. But, fine. I'll keep calling in, when the backup comes we might end up going somewhere else."

"Sure. But, can we boost another car and get some more clothes?"

"I think that'd be a good plan. But in the morning. I just want to get a roof over our heads for now."

"Will they have traced us?"

"I doubt it; we haven't done anything traceable except that call, and that should be either."

"You don't seem to trust your company very much."

"I don't trust anyone."

"Do you trust me?"

Sierra looked at him. "It doesn't really matter."

"But do you?"

"I..." She was stumped. If she said yes, she had a feeling she would be admitting to a lot more than just believing that he told her the truth. But if she said no, he would be hurt, and she would be lying. Rick waited for her to continue but she didn't. Instead, she started the car again by touching the wires together, and pulled away. Rick watched her eyes, but he could see only darkness. He told himself they were just reflecting the darkness of the night sky, but he knew that was wrong. He felt to blame – if he hadn't been stubborn about Sophia, if he had trusted her when they first met... He was the reason _she _was in danger. He didn't care if it was her job, he was not going to let her die because of him.

They arrived at a cheap looking motel on the edge of Richmond and Sierra booked them a room. Rick followed her inside, watching as she swept the place. When she was satisfied, Sierra sat down on the edge of the bed and put her head in her hands. On impulse, Rick sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. She made a half-hearted attempt to shake him off but he didn't budge, and she stopped trying to make him.

"Do you want me to take you back to the safe house?" she asked quietly.

"What? No! Are you crazy?"

"I've been informed that it's completely safe. All I have to go on is instinct. And if I don't take you back, I'm in big trouble with my bosses."

"I trust your judgement. If you think it's not safe, I agree. Will you really be in trouble?"

"That all depends. I have a horrible feeling that... That Sophia can't have been the only one on the inside. We were in a CIA safe house – if there's another mole in the CIA, they would have been able to tell someone we were there. Or there could be a mole in my house, of course, but I... I feel like I know them. But it's entirely possible that I don't – I mean, you knew Sophia."

"Knew as in spent time with."

"You wrote books about her, Rick. You tailed her for over a year – you knew as much about her as anyone."

"But that's not necessarily much."

"Right. So I might well be wrong about my colleagues too."

"I'd hate not trusting anyone."

"You get used to it."

"Really?"

"I don't think I'm a very trusting person even naturally. I'd probably be just as cold even if I weren't a spy."

"I don't think you're cold."

"Then you know me even less than I thought."

"I think I know you better than you know yourself."

"Three days, Rick. Three days – you can't possibly know me."

"I don't think you know you either. _You. _As in, not Sierra."

"Rick, I _am _Sierra."

"No you're not."

"I'm not anyone else."

"I don't think you know who you are. But you're more than Sierra."

"Rick, there's no one else I can be. I've been Sierra for eight years, that's just the way it is."

"What happened eight years ago?"

"I was recruited."

"And..?"

"And I became Sierra."

"You're already breaking the rules. Why not break another? Tell me who you are."

"Maybe I don't want to. Maybe you're right and I just don't know."

"You're scared."

"I don't want this to be the end. It seems so... pathetic, being hunted and chased like a frightened animal."

"It won't be the end."

Sierra laughed. "I'm supposed to be the one looking after you."

"Not any more. You didn't follow orders, you aren't doing your job any more."

But the spell had been broken. She shrugged out from under his arm.

"Thank you, Rick. For caring."

"Always."

"You need to use the bathroom?"

"Do you have your toothbrush in your bag?"

"Nope. No toothbrush."

Rick sighed, and went into the bathroom. He came out a moment later with a complimentary toothbrush with toothpaste on it. He held it out to her.

"You can use it first," she said, laughing.

"No, I want it to taste like you."

She took the brush. "You're an idiot."

"Thanks."

"Always," she said through a mouthful of toothpaste and bristles. Rick watched her brush her teeth, and instead of shooing him, Sierra stared him down. When she was done she handed him the brush and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She went to the washbasin and gripped either side of it, staring into the mirror. Who did she see?

She didn't cry, she just crumbled. How was he doing this to her? She took off her vest and shorts, continuing to look in the mirror. She traced the scars that covered her body. They were nothing compared with the scars inside. She turned on the shower to its highest setting, stepped out of her underwear and into the scalding water. It burned her skin but she hardly felt the pain. She wanted to think, to remember who she had been before... before everything. She bit her lip. Did she even know any more?

Rick listened to the shower running. He put the toothbrush down on the counter and swallowed the paste. It had been on for a while. He wondered if she was okay. He tried not to worry, but after another twenty minutes he had to. He banged on the door.

"Sierra?" he called, wishing yet again that he knew her name. There was no reply.

"Sierra!"

There was still nothing. He pounded on the door but the shower kept running. He could hear her taking gasping breaths, but she wouldn't answer him.

"Sierra, I'm coming in."

He'd thought she'd answer that, even just to tell him to go away, but she didn't. He gritted his teeth, took a step back, and slammed his full weight into the door. The lock gave instantly and he stumbled into the room. She was sitting on the floor of the tub with the shower on full blast. The room was full of steam; she had it on its highest temperature! Her skin was red and raw; he rushed to turn it down to cold. She shuddered at the change of temperature but that was her only acknowledgement of his presence.

Feeling very James Bond, he climbed, fully dressed, into the tub with her. He pulled her into his arms, letting the cool water rain down on them both. She was shaking, but not crying. Suddenly she turned her face up to look at him, piercing his eyes like a child looking at something they'd never seen before.

"Talk about role reversal," he said quietly. And she smiled. He blinked. She had smiled. He had made her smile.

"You must think I'm crazy," she said.

He shook his head. "I think you're a person who's been through far too much. And I think it's time you let someone help you."

"It's my job to protect you. I'll be... In the morning I'll be fine."

"Why don't we protect each other?"

She was kissing him before she realised she had moved. He cradled her gently, kissing back, but more out of sympathy than desire. After a while, he gently moved her away, holding on to her wrists.

"Not yet. Not now."

She blushed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"I'm not. But it... it wouldn't be right."

She had no idea how much restraint it was taking for him to stop. He got out of the tub and turned off the water, then passed her a towel as she got out as well.

"You take the bed," she said gently. "I'll take the couch. And..."

"Always," he said, smiling gently at her.

"I trust you," she whispered.


	13. TARGET

_**A/N: So I might be borrowing a title as well as some characters with this chapter... Thanks AWM! Also, the site seems to have been having a bit of a hiatus - for me, anyway. I know you were told there was a chapter 12 but it wouldn't work - I put it up but for some reason it's not coming up in the story. I am very sorry, if you're reading this it must be working now and I hope it wasn't down for too long!**_

CHAPTER 13 – TARGET

Sierra put her vest and underwear back on and took a spare blanket out of the closet. She lay down on the couch. Rick was still in the bathroom, drying off she thought. His clothes were wet... She closed her eyes and tried not to think about it. She had to get the walls back up; what he did to her could have terrible consequences. She had to be objective, she had to keep him safe.

But she had kissed him! Her lips were still burning. More than anything, she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again, and not stop there... She wanted everything from him. But it was worse, worse than just wanting his body. She wanted _him_. She wanted his love. For the first time in eight years, she wanted _him _to protect _her_. She gritted her teeth and faced the back of the couch. He had seen more of her than any man ever had. He had seen her broken; he had seen her screaming at night, and now he had seen her crumbling when she was very much awake. He had seen her with no control. And he still wanted to look after her.

No. It was wrong. She would look after him. That was her job. She could not tell him anything. The walls were all she had; if she let them fall there was no knowing what could happen. She might... and she couldn't think about that. She would not go down that road.

She tried to relax, desperate to fall asleep before he came back into the room. It was no use. She wanted him so badly, she needed him... No. She needed nothing and nobody! She was strong, she was terrifying, she _killed _people for a living, she had been in more fights than she could cound and she _always _won, she was strong, she was strong, she did not need _anything _from Richard Castle!

But if they were going to die... She battled with her mind, getting nowhere. They were not going to die. He wasn't, anyway. If she had to die, she would make damn sure her death meant he lived. Wait, what? She would die for him? No, she would die for him because that was her job. And she wouldn't die. She would fight. But if she had to die for him was it really for her job or for him? It was to save the world! He was the linchpin! But... She let out an exasperated sigh.

"You can't sleep either?"

Rick. She'd thought he was still in the bathroom. He seemed to read her mind.

"The door doesn't make any noise now that it doesn't close."

Oh. That made sense. He was getting better at sneaking.

"No. I can't sleep either."

"Never mind. I suppose that means if they're after us there'll be two people to hear them coming."

"Sure. Super vigilance. But you should try to get some sleep."

Rick was a little relieved that she was back to telling him what to do. He hoped she would be okay. He thought she would be, at least for a while. He thought she was the type of person who kept a lot of her problems shut up very tight – something had happened, he was sure. To someone she loved. It was the only way he could explain why she was the way she was. And he thought the stress of the last few days had brought things much closer to the surface than they ever usually came. Now she would push them back down, and she would cope for a while, until she exploded again. He hoped someone would be there to hold her when she did. He wished she would let him in, let him help her. But he didn't have much hope.

And he had just pushed her away! She had kissed him, something he had wanted to do to her since he'd met her. And yet he'd ended it. She would never do it again now. Had he done the right thing? Maybe. She was not in a good place. Going along with it would have been taking advantage. Not that she would have minded. But it would have been wrong. And he didn't want to kiss that her. He wanted to kiss the strong, hypnotic, complicated, fascinating woman he was... No. He wasn't falling in love with her. He couldn't be. He had spent three days with her! You couldn't fall in love in three days. It was impossible. Impossible. He looked over to her, curled up on the couch. She was so beautiful. Even now. Even? Especially. He wanted all of her. He wanted to accept that part of her. He wanted to help her. Yet he had brushed her away.

"I don't want to sleep," he said quietly, in case she had drifted off while he was thinking.

"What do you want to do?"

_You_. "I don't know. I want to-" he had been about to say he wanted to find out her name.

"You want to what?"

"It's stupid. I've asked enough times."

"You were going to ask my name?"

At least she didn't sound angry. "Yes."

"I like it that you want to know."

"But you won't tell me."

"No, I won't. But I... You're very sweet, Rick. And thank you, again."

"Always."

"What does that mean? I say it too, I... It feels right."

"It means, I'll always be there to do that for you."

"Crazy, then. Because we won't be."

"No. Maybe not. I wish we could be."

Sierra sighed. She did too. "Some things just have to be the way they are."

"Really? When I was little I said I wanted to change the world. Maybe we can do that."

"Everyone wants to change the world. But the world doesn't care. It'll go on just fine without you."

"These people think killing me will change the world."

"True. Maybe you're special."

"Do you think I'm special?"

"I do. But not in the same way they do. To them, you're just a job."

"But I'm not just a job to you?"

"No. You're a person. A sweet, kind person."

"I'm glad. You're a person to me too."

"A nameless person."

"You don't need a name to be a person."

"I think it helps."

"Sure. But you manage without one. Just about."

"I'm glad you think so."

"We could run away," he said dreamily, suddenly changing the subject.

"What?"

"We could run away. We could go somewhere no one would ever find us. Your bosses, whoever's after us – they wouldn't have a clue. We could go someplace safe. And you could be... you."

Sierra sighed. "I couldn't. I have to stay. I have to have my job. I don't know who I am without it."

"You'd have me. You know who you are with me."

"I don't even know _where _I am with you."

Rick laughed. "I like the wordplay. You're wherever you want. But not when you're having a breakdown and burning yourself with the shower."

"You liked it. James."

"I didn't," he said seriously. "Can you tell me what it was about?"

"It was about... who Sierra used to be. She was being more vocal than usual."

"I take it she's been beaten into submission now?"

"Yeah..."

"Poor thing. What did she do to deserve that?"

"Nothing. She couldn't cope. She wanted to leave."

"Then why is she a problem?"

"Sometimes she isn't so sure that she wants to be gone."

"Do you miss her?"

"She wouldn't cope. She's a mess, she always will be."

"And there's no way to help her?"

"None."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Rick didn't say anything. In a way this was the most Sierra had ever told him about herself. In a way, she had still said absolutely nothing. He closed his eyes and did his best to ignore her. He thought she must be doing the same.

Sierra listened to Rick breathe. She liked being able to hear him. Soon his breathing slowed; he was sleeping. She sat up on the couch; it was under the window and she ducked under the curtains, looking out at the night sky. She couldn't see many stars; the lights from the city were too bright. But she could see the moon. It was almost full, shining brightly, glowing silver against the black. She liked the moon. It was just... curious. There were lots of stories about it, and myths. It was just a rock, it didn't even make light of its own, but it was still special. She thought there was something almost magical about it.

_Twenty years ago..._

"_You're getting too old to need me to put you to bed every night."_

"_You don't. You're usually at work. And just a story..."_

"_Alright. Settle down then."_

_The little girl lay down under her purple bedclothes and smiled as her mother sat on the bed beside her. Johanna smiled at her seven hear old daughter._

"_Do you know anything about the moon?"_

_The girl shook her head._

"_Well, lots of people say the moon isn't nearly so special as the sun, because it doesn't make any light of its own. It's kind of grey, and has lots of craters, and sometimes we can't even see it. But the moon is actually far more important than you know."_

"_Why?"_

"_The moon watches over us. The sun is too busy making all that light and heat, and he's really quite full of himself, because he's orbited by so many things. But the moon – she's very modest. She orbits the earth, quietly making sure things run smoothly for us. She makes sure the sea does what it's supposed to, and most importantly, she's always there for you at night."_

"_How?"_

"_Even when you can't see her, she can see you. Whenever you're scared or afraid, if you're ever alone at night, you don't even need to look at her – she'll see you and keep you safe. She has all of the stars to help her too. And if you ever need anything, all you have to do is pick a star and ask. It might not happen straight away, it might not happen at all. But even if it doesn't, even if your problems stay, the moon'll still be thinking about you, hoping everything turns out okay. And sometimes that's all you need – she cares about every soul, every person on this earth. Being cared about's so important, sweetheart."_

"_That's sweet."_

"_I think so. My mother told me that story."_

"_But I don't need the moon. It's nice, but I have you."_

"_Yes, you do. I love you."_

"_I love you too."_

Sierra sniffed. She wasn't crying. She didn't cry.

Rick watched Sierra. She looked like a little girl, kneeling up to look out of the window. He was just wearing his boxers, and they were still slightly damp – one of the reasons he wasn't sleeping. He got up and went to kneel beside her, wondering what she was looking at.

"What are you thinking about?"

"The moon," she said honestly.

"What about the moon?"

"Nothing in particular. I like the moon."

"Me too. It's very... glowy."

Sierra let out a giggle.

"What?"

"Glowy? Seriously?"

"Well... it is. I didn't know what to say – you were in a serious mood, I didn't want to..." he trailed off, beginning to laugh with her.

"Your boxers are wet," she said through her laughter.

"I know. But I didn't want to sleep naked when-"

"Gotcha." She had stopped laughing and was staring at him. He stared back, then suddenly reached out to tickle her. She squealed with laughter and fell back onto the couch. He fell with her, continuing his attack.

"Stop, stop!" she shouted. "Apples!"

He laughed, and stopped, but stayed leaning over her, their heavy breathing locking them together somehow. After what seemed like an eternity, Rick moved to get up, but Sierra pulled him down to her again.

"I'm better now," she whispered, forcing his mouth to hers. He didn't resist, and sank into her, releasing the passion he had held on to an hour ago, kissing her as he had never kissed anyone before.


	14. REALITY (PART II)

**_This is the SECOND part of chapter 14. The first part contains M rated content and is published separately in a story called "Sierra - Reality Part I". Find it, read it, come back here! _**

CHAPTER 14 – REALITY

PART II

_Rick smiled to himself and half-closed his eyes – but peeked out at the stunning woman who was now leaning on his chest. Kate. She was real, she wanted to be real, and her name was Kate._

She had given him everything – not just her body, but her _self. _She had spoken to him with her true accent, and told him her real name. He smiled even more widely. It must have meant just as much to her as it did to him.

He liked that she was from Manhattan; he _loved _that she had brought him with her even though he had very strongly encouraged her not to. She could be both in control, and totally without control, in the same moment. She was perfect. _Kate _was perfect.

He pulled the comforter over them and closed his eyes properly, falling into a satisfied sleep. Kate nuzzled into him, enjoying the warmth of his body as she wondered how on earth she had ended up here. She didn't care, though. She didn't regret a second of it. More than that – she wanted more. She wanted to be with him, forever. _Always_ as they were so fond of saying to each other. She wanted them to be together, always.

She woke up to him gently shaking her shoulder.

"Kate?"

"Mmm," she said sleepily.

"There's someone pounding on the door," he said gently.

She sat up. "Seriously?"

She didn't need an answer; she heard for herself. She would have to think quickly. _Sierra _would have to think too.

"Okay, are the guns all hidden?" she whispered.

Rick scanned the room.

"Think so."

"Okay. Get back into bed."

"What?"

"You heard – get back into bed. Snuggle, you know?"

"We're not going to run?"

"No. I'm going to kiss you so they don't see your face when they come in. I'm hoping they still think I'm blonde – so they'll think they have the wrong room."

"How did they find us?" he asked as he got into bed.

"Must've been the phone call – this is the nearest cheap motel to where I made it."

"Shit."

"Relax."

The door burst open and Kate threw herself on Rick, straddling him and kissing him for all she was worth. She didn't look round when whoever it was came into the room and gasped. She heard three sets of footsteps. They spoke to each other in Russian – she could understand most of it.

"Wrong room," one said gruffly.

"Shit," said another. "We've tried almost all the rooms that were let last night."

"Maybe they're not here," said the third.

"Come on, let's go," said the second.

And then in English - "We're very sorry. We're maintenance, we seem to be in the wrong room."

Kate just waved her hand, absorbed in kissing Rick. As soon as the men left she broke away.

"Did you see what they looked like?" she asked him.

"Ugly," he said breathlessly. "Kate, that was amazing,"

"You weren't so bad yourself."

He groaned as she got out of bed, pulling on the vest and shorts which had definitely seen better days.

"We'll wait a bit until it's a reasonable time to be leaving – say an hour? Then we'll go shopping and find another car."

Rick grinned. "If we aren't leaving for an hour, why are you dressed?"

Kate laughed. "Why shouldn't I be dressed?"

Rick raised his eyebrows. "Well, how would you fill the hour then?"

Kate sat back down on the bed and he slid towards her, already tugging at her clothes...

An hour later, they were both dressed and ready to leave the motel. Kate hoisted up the bag and they wandered outside into the sunshine. They took a cab to the nearest supermarket and stocked up on clothes, food, alcohol (Rick's idea), a toothbrush and toothpaste, and the things Kate needed to steal cars without breaking their windows. They got changed in the store's disabled toilet. Rick was sad to see the 'tomb raider' outfit go, but Kate threw it out.

"Come on, it's disgusting."

"Lara's always dirty, that doesn't make her disgusting."

Kate grabbed his ear.

"Okay, okay, you can throw it out- apples!" he said. She laughed, and went to wash her face at the sink. She took out the toothbrush. Rick grinned as he watched her brush her teeth and hand him the brush.

"You know," she said as she watched him use it. "That really is one of the weirdest turn ons I've seen a guy have."

"It's not a turn on," he said through the toothbrush. "I just find it funny. And I like the taste."

When they were both satisfied with their cleanliness they left the store and went out to the car park. Kate found a suitable vehicle as Rick dug in the bag for sandwiches and orange juice. She had bought a long, thin piece of plastic that she slid under the window and used to unlock the door. She disabled the alarm, and had the engine going in seconds. She'd chosen a little red mini-cooper. Rick grinned as they got in, handing her a sandwich as she drove out of the car park. Neither of them could stop smiling.

"Do you think you'll always be Kate now?" Rick asked after a little bit of driving.

"To you, yes. To the world... Might have to stay Sierra for a bit."

"But Sierra comes from Kate."

"Oh, yeah – they're mostly the same. I mean, Sierra's just a code name for the tough Kate; the English accent's just a cover."

"Is it... Does it feel good?"

"Being me? Yeah. But, I mean... I'm more than an accent and a name. There's a lot of stuff that... that I became Sierra to deal with."

"You'll get through it. I'll help you."

"Thanks."

"Always."

"Always," she echoed quietly. Rick rested his hand on her knee and smiled at her.

"This would really be a perfect moment if it weren't for the insubordination and the bad guys trying to kill us," Rick said with a cute lopsided smile. Kate laughed and put her hand on his; she had finished the sandwich.

"I think it can still be a perfect moment. They aren't trying to kill us _now_."


	15. BONNIE AND CLYDE

CHAPTER 15 – BONNIE AND CLYDE

Kate drove west, trying to stay off main roads, trying to think of a better plan. Rick could tell from her frown that she was worrying, but he didn't know what to do to stop her.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally. Kate sighed.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine."

In fact she was in torment. She gripped the wheel with both hands, her knuckles going white as she tried not to think too much. But she didn't even know who she was! She had let go of everything that had been protecting her, everything she had been for the last eight years. All she remembered of Kate was a wreck, a broken teenager who wanted nothing more than to lie down in that alley beside her mother and never wake up. There had been nothing left in the world for Kate – and was there anything now? She looked at the man sitting beside her, the man she owed an explanation. But she had nothing to give him. She couldn't explain... And it was such a long story. And one in which she came off pretty badly. _I wanted to kill people because someone I loved was killed. _Yeah, that sounded totally sane and sensible! It wasn't why – but it was what people thought. Even Victor had thought that.

_Sierra threw herself into the punch bag, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pummelled it with her fists. She had been there for two weeks – and she wanted to go home. But this was her home now. There was nothing for her anywhere else. Not any more. _

"_Sierra?"_

_She jumped, then wiped her eyes. She'd thought she was alone._

"_Hey, Victor."_

_"Want me to steady that for you?"_

_She nodded slowly, not sure what he wanted. She tried to remember what they'd been taught about how to train properly with the bag, but she was so frustrated, she just wanted to hit something. _

"_You'll tire yourself out hitting it like that," Victor said gently._

_"I don't care," she said quietly. If she was really tired, maybe she would sleep. She had hardly been sleeping at all. _

_Victor let go of the bag and walked around it to her._

_"Want to talk about it?"_

"_No. Not allowed, anyway."_

_"I won't tell."_

"_I don't care."_

"_Someone died, right?"_

_He took her silence as a yes._

"_You'll get over it. One day. You're special, you know that? You're young, and they let you start late."_

_Sierra knew it wasn't as simple as that. 'They' had been getting her out of the way, whoever they were – she couldn't have stayed in New York. It was for her own safety as much as for the benefit of the man who had helped her. The nameless, faceless man. _

"Kate?"

She blinked. "Sorry. I was...thinking."

"You were miles away. You look so sad. Are you sure you- I mean, you aren't sad about-"

Kate looked around, indicated, then pulled over to the side of the road. She stared right at the man sitting next to her.

"Rick. Last night, and this morning, were better than anything I could ever have imagined. In a way, you are the only thing keeping me sane right now. You make me the opposite of sad. If there were nothing else... If it were just you, I'd be the happiest woman in the world right now."

Rick stared back. "There doesn't have to be anything else. I mean, I don't want to control you. But I hate to see you like this."

"I'm not... I'm not a happy person Rick. You know that."

"But couldn't you be? We could just... We could run away. We could go anywhere, do anything you want."

She sighed. "I wish it were that simple. But I come with a lot of baggage."

Rick touched the side of her face. "We all do, Kate. But that's what I'm here for. When was the last time you talked to someone about it?"

"I've never talked to anyone about it. I think it's better that way, though."

Kate could see the pain in Rick's eyes as he looked at her. "You're so alone..." he said softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb as his bright eyes pierced her soul. "But not any more," he added. Kate rested her face on his hand for a moment before gently taking hold of it, squeezing it tightly between both of hers.

"You don't need to be burdened with my problems too."

"Maybe I want to be." _Maybe I love you..._

"I'm not..." she bit her lip. "I don't know how to keep you safe."

Rick put his free hand on her shoulder. "We'll keep each other safe."

Kate was almost crying. "They'll find us, though. This is so much bigger... I should never have come. I mean, I thought... What if they're not after you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if it's... Oh God, it really could be. I should never have come!"

"Really could be what? Kate, I'm lost..."

"What if they made me? Someone, anyone in New York. What if they realised... There was a reason I left. I'm a danger, I knew too much, and I told the wrong people – they had to get me out."

"You mean... what happened to make you become Sierra?"

"Right. I mean, maybe we were right. Maybe Sophia was working alone. She had no associates, this whole thing has never made sense... Unless it's not about you. What if they only took you to get to me? What if you're just bait, what if I'm the one putting you in danger... What if it's all my fault?"

"But why would anyone want to get to you?" Rick was desperately trying to process the information she was giving him, but she was almost hysterical now, and she wasn't telling him anything like the whole story.

"Because I... I can't explain now. No time," she said, pulling back out onto the road. "We have to get to a phone, I have to call this in."

"But... last time you called in they found out where we were."

Kate bit her lip. "Okay, so I can't call it in. Then what do I do?"

"Someone died, didn't they?"

"What?"

"Someone you loved. They were murdered. And the killer was never caught, right?"

Kate felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"Then I think we should solve the murder. So we know who's after you – if it isn't the Russians. But it could still be the Russians."

Kate felt herself start to cry, and she was powerless to stop. It was finally too much. But he was right. She only knew _him _as 'The Dragon'. Some all powerful figure, someone who could get to anyone but could never be found.

"It's not the Russians," she said quietly. "If they had you... They would have just killed you. But they didn't. They kept you alive, because they wanted me. And why would anyone want me? There's only one reason."

"How did they find you?"

"No idea. Maybe someone recognised me. It sounds stupid, but they really do have people everywhere." She sniffed. She tried to stop crying; she needed to think. Rick took a tissue out of the bag and mopped at her cheeks as she drove. She laughed in spite of herself.

"I feel like a child."

He got another tissue and held it to her nose. "Blow."

She raised her eyebrows. He shrugged. She blew her nose.

"Good girl," he said with a smile. She smiled back.

"I think you need a coffee," he said to her. "I know I do."

He kept the smile on his face despite his terror. _She _was the target? No, it couldn't be. It was him! She couldn't be who they wanted, she was going to be alright, she was going to be safe... He would protect her. She pulled into the next service station and bought two cappuccinos. They sat together on the hood of the mini to drink them.

"Why did you pick a mini?" Rick asked.

"Don't know. Just always liked them."

"It's not really inconspicuous."

"If I'm going to die, I want to have driven a mini first."

Rick laughed. "You're not going to die. But, now we're onto the topic, what else is on your bucket list?"

Kate smiled at him. "Loads. I mean... I guess I just didn't think I would die. I don't die. I do the killing. So I haven't really done any of it. And the job got in the way too. Do you have one?"

"A bucket list? Sure. I think everyone does. Tell me something on yours."

"You have to tell me the stuff on yours too."

"Fine. We'll take turns," he said, pulling her closer to him so she was leaning against his chest. "But you first, because I asked."

"Fair enough. Uhm..." she blushed. "Be kissed in the rain."

"Darn, it's not raining. Would the shower count?"

"Nope. Got to be rain. Preferably a thunderstorm. Your turn."

"Tell a girl I love her. And mean it. And have her tell me back."

Kate nodded. "Catch the dragon," she said quietly. Rick knew now wasn't the time to ask.

"Drive a mini-cooper."

Kate laughed. "Isn't riding in one enough?"

"No way."

"Fine. Stay in a 5 star hotel."

"Really? They're not that special."

"It's my list."

"As you wish. Dance in the street."

"Or a parking lot?"

"A parking lot would do. If I were dancing with someone really special."

Kate slid off the car, downed the rest of the coffee, and held out her hands to him. He put down his cup and joined her, taking her hand and putting an arm around her waist.

"I actually kicked one off quite recently," Kate said, grinning.

"Oh yes? And what was that?"

"Tell someone my real name. Let them know me."

"I'm glad you wanted to. I thought maybe you were just being nice. And you were very nice. Too nice, really. I could even go as far as to say I _like _letting her go first. You have it in you."

Kate grinned. "Maybe I'm a feminist."

"No. If you were a feminist you'd think it should be only you."

"You have a very narrow view of feminists."

"The word has connotations. Which you don't meet – you shave your legs and wear a bra. So, not a feminist."

Kate laughed. "I should be mad at you for saying that. In fact, I am."

Rick winked. "No you're not. You want to be, but you can't resist my charm. What's your surname?"

"Beckett."

"Kate Beckett. Is Kate short for Katherine?"

Kate nodded.

"You have a middle name?"

"Houghton."

"Oh, Katharine Houghton Hepburn! Love it."

"My mother was a fan. But my name's spelt wrong. I have an 'e'."

"Makes you special. You're like her, you know. Strong."

"I wanted to be her... I mean, when I was little. I wanted to be an actress. Or the first female chief of justice. One of the two."

Rick laughed. "I think I was always going to be a writer. You kind of are an actress."

"Except my whole life is pretending."

"Not your whole life. You don't have to pretend with me."

"No... It's such a relief."

"I think that's why you're all teary. It's like people getting migraines when the stress is over."

"But the stress isn't over."

"Some of it is. Anyway, you're smiling now. So you must feel better."

"You make me feel better."

"Glad to be of service. But I can do far better than this," he said, waggling his eyebrows. She tutted, then got into the passenger seat of the car. Rick sat down on the driver's side, but Kate had to lean over, her head almost in his lap, to get the car started again.

"This I could get used to," he said. Kate stroked a hand across his lap and he gasped. She sat up; the engine was purring quietly. She turned sideways in her seat and looked across at him, folding her legs up in front of her.

"Put your seatbelt on," he said as he drove out of the parking lot. "We haven't survived this long for you to die in a car accident."

"Aren't you a good driver?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. Rick winked at her; she loved everything he did with his eyes.

"I'm excellent. But I can't speak for everybody else."

Kate laughed.

"You feeling good now?" he asked her.

She looked him up and down, thinking, but also letting him fill her mind.

"Wonderful," she said.

"We're like Bonnie and Clyde," he said with a grin.

"Except we aren't going to get riddled with holes," Kate said sternly.

"Or Thelma and Louise."

"They're both women. And we-"

"Hey. I might not have seen the end!"

"You brought them up."

"I know of them. Doesn't mean-"

"Fine, fine. But I think we're a new dynamic duo."

"Never seen before," he mused. "Where am I headed, by the way?"

"Ah... somewhere to stay, I guess."

"A 5 star hotel?"

Kate laughed. "Hell, why not?"


	16. REMEMBER

CHAPTER 16 – REMEMBER

They drove on for hours, not saying much. Rick thought as he drove – thought about how to fix things. He still had hopes for the run away together plan, but he didn't think Kate would ever be convinced. And he liked her for it – she wasn't one to avoid her problems. So they had to come up with another solution; something that would solve things for good. Not just stop the guys chasing them, but make it so that they could be together. Every idea he had, Rick made sure he factored this in. He wasn't going to lose her when they were safe.

Kate had been thinking too, and at about 8pm they both turned to each other and said simultaneously:

"We need to solve the case."

Kate said it solemnly; Rick had more of a question in his voice. But they had both said it; they both thought it. Rick laughed.

"We really are connected."

Kate smiled. "Seems that way. But – why did you think of that? I mean, you don't even know about the case."

"I know there is one. And you seem to think it's the root of all this – and I think it's the root of your pain, too. I mean, I'm not naïve enough to think that getting to the bottom of it will magically heal you – but it might help you get some closure."

Kate nodded. "You're pretty smart. For a writer man-child," she added, a grin playing on her lips. Rick saw through it though. She knew she was going to have to talk about it, and she didn't want to break down in front of him again. So she was pretending – doing what she did best.

"You're not so bad yourself. For a spook."

Kate laughed quietly. When her laughter had died down Rick let the silence swell around them, giving her time, waiting for her to be ready. After a few minutes she began to speak, not looking at him, hugging her knees and staring out at the road; it was getting dark, and the cats' eyes were blinking at them from between the white stripes between the lanes.

"It was... the ninth of January 1999. That day... my mother had been really busy, working on a case. I was still home from college, Christmas vacation. Our decorations were still up – they shouldn't have been, it's bad luck to have them up after the 6th, but Mom had been so busy, Dad too, and I was a lazy 19 year old, I wasn't going to take them down. I was on vacation." She laughed again, but a dead, humourless laugh that fell flat against the dashboard. "She... she came into my room to say goodbye. The case was ending, she said. She was a lawyer, she'd just found something out that was going to change everything. She'd finally be able to spend some time with me before I went back to school. I was glad, but it was early and I was still half asleep. I hardly managed to say anything to her – she told me we'd have dinner later, but Dad new all the details, she didn't need to tell me. She said she loved me. I think I said 'Mmhmm, me too, bye'... I slept until at least noon, after that. Then I mooched around – I remember everything I did, even though I did nothing. I watched some TV, got told off by my dad for drinking milk straight out of the bottle... And I dropped a cup, that afternoon. It broke on the kitchen floor. Dad and I laughed about it, Mom had broken one just the other day. We cleaned up the mess and played cards – he'd been teaching me how to play poker, that vacation. Then we got ready to go to dinner. Mom had called earlier to say she would be running late and she'd meet us at the restaurant. We laughed at her again. Typical Johanna Beckett. We got to the restaurant at seven but she wasn't there. We waited for over an hour; I was mad at her. I remember that so clearly, my anger. She had promised she'd be there, I'd hardly seen her for the whole vacation and the one thing she'd promised to do and she wasn't there! So Dad and I had dinner without her, and then we went home... There was a detective waiting for us at the door. Detective Raglan. And he told us that she was dead." Rick was surprised at the lack of emotion in her voice. She was telling it as though it was a story, something that happened to someone else. Not something that had happened to her. "She had been stabbed in an alleyway. They found her lying in a pile of garbage, alone in this alley in Washington heights. I identified the body. My Dad couldn't do it, he didn't even come to the police station with me. He wasn't... I got our neighbour to sit with him; he was just spouting nonsense, gibberish. I saw her. She wasn't her any more though. She was so pale... but there was blood on the sheet. Blood had seeped through. I thought I'd be sick but I wasn't. I told them it was her but I wanted to tell them it wasn't. Because it wasn't, you know? I mean, it was her body, but... They asked me some questions. About what she was doing, the case, but I didn't know, I couldn't think anyway... I never went home. There was a man at the police station, morgue, whatever. He was very tall, old, but imposing, strong. He had a British accent. And after the cops were done, he told me that I should come with him. He said he worked for MI6, and that if I wanted, I was being recruited. He said going with him would protect a lot of people – my father, me, and people he worked for too. I asked him what my Mom could possibly have to do with MI6. He said he couldn't say, but I trusted him for some reason. I didn't have anywhere else to go, anyway. I mean, where else could I have gone? Home to my crazy father? I'd have gone crazy too. He said it was a limited time offer, that he was leaving that night, and that I would disappear. I was broken, I had nothing, my world had fallen apart – so I said yes. I got in his car, and into his plane, and never looked back. Well, hardly ever. It got easier... My father thinks I'm dead. I mean, officially I am. Kate Beckett died – they took some of my blood and put it in the trunk of a car, then dumped the car out by the river. Looked like another murder, they never found the body – but they made it look like I was at the bottom of the Hudson. It was so easy... So easy I tried to imagine ways my mother could be alive. I mean, I'd not actually touched the body... But I knew I would go crazy thinking that way. So she was dead. And Kate almost died too. Kate became Sierra."

She was still staring out into nothingness. Rick wished he could do something; hold her, comfort her – but she wasn't crying. She looked almost peaceful.

"I've never told that story before," she said quietly, as though she had read his thoughts. "It's almost relaxing. You know _me_ now."

Rick wanted to say that he didn't, really; that this one event did not define her... But he kept quiet. It wasn't what she needed to hear. Not now.

"Why did you go with the guy? I mean, how could you be sure he was MI6?"

Kate blinked. "I wasn't sure. But I honestly didn't care. If he had been trying to kill me, I would have said bring it. At that moment I couldn't think of anything I had to live for. And I thought I'd find out. I mean, it was pretty clear he was from MI6 once we arrived in England – army base, all the people – impossible to fake."

Rick nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to put as much feeling into the words as he could; sure he sounded pathetic, very aware of the uselessness of the words against the horrors she had just recounted. She smiled gently.

"Thanks," she said – again using the simple word to convey far more emotion than its literal meaning.

"I wonder what you knew..." he said thoughtfully.

"Me too. I mean, I've tried to think of it, tried to work it out. I thought it must be something I said to the cops – and of course, I was sure, at first, that if I worked it out, I'd be able to solve the case. I used to check on it in the first few weeks. Random gang violence – that was how they closed it. I was so angry that day." She laughed, another flat, dead thing. "I swept a pile of plates off the table in the cafeteria. Someone said something, I don't even remember what, but I got mad and went crazy. I got better at controlling it, channelling the anger into strength. _Make it a strength. _That's what Victor used to say. _You think it's a weakness? Make it a strength. We're all fucked up Sierra. It's what makes us special._ He made me laugh. But really _made_. I didn't want to laugh. But I knew I had to. And it did make me feel better. It was fake, but some days I nearly believed I was okay."

Rick wondered if he too _made _her laugh. He didn't think so though. She seemed to read his mind.

"It's different with you. You're the first person I've ever... I've ever trusted enough, and the first person I've ever wanted to tell. It's not just that I have to. I... It feels good, kind of."

"You can tell me anything."

"I know. I want to tell you everything."

They were in a town now. Kate hadn't noticed. Rick pulled up in front of a huge mansion; it looked like a country house, old, but in beautiful condition. There was a little sign outside. She smiled and looked at him for the first time in a while. He smiled back.

"I promised you 5 star – and if there's one thing about me you should know, it is that I deliver."

Kate laughed, looking around in wonder as he parked the car. She tried to let her surroundings flood her mind, chasing all her other thoughts away. It didn't work. But it meant she could smile.

Rick organised everything about the room. They got it for free – the owner was a fan. Kate was worried this would give away their location, but Rick's logic was, if their attackers really had the owner of the Country House Hotel under their thumb, they were fucked anyway. He explained his desire to keep their presence quiet, and even managed to wangle a new car (with actual keys!) and anything else they might need during their stay. Kate began to think they shouldn't bother with the road trip. She laughed. She wasn't even certain which state they were in.

They went up to their room. It was even better than she had imagined. She bit her lip. She wished she could enjoy it, but they needed to start...

"What do we need?" Rick asked.

Kate looked around.

"Uhm... a whiteboard?"

"Genius. I'll call down," he said. Kate lay back on the huge bed. It was so soft, it was calling to her. The relief of finally... getting everything out there was exhausting. Rick looked at her. She blinked, and forced herself to sit up. He put down the phone and sat on the bed beside her, putting his arms around her and slowly guiding her back down to the bed.

"You need to sleep," he said quietly. "It'll still be here in the morning."

She made a noise of protest but he was already taking off her shoes and tucking her into the bed. He undressed and got in beside her; she was asleep before he'd turned the light off.


	17. DREAMS

CHAPTER 17 – DREAMS

Kate woke up not knowing where she was, trapped, unable to move. She struggled for a moment, scared and confused – then she realised what was holding her in place. She was in bed with Rick; his arms were around her... She felt awful for being so afraid. She tried to relax in his arms but she had to get out now. She was about to gently wriggle out from his grip when he moved himself. Had she woken him up? But his eyes were still closed, his breathing was still steady and light. She slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom. She looked at the shower. Somehow that was scary too.

Rick forced himself to keep everything controlled so she wouldn't realise she had woken him up. She had hated it. She had hated that he was holding her – she had been struggling in his grip, terrified. He forced himself not to get upset as she got out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

Then – the bathroom. What if she felt bad? He trusted her. He had to. He couldn't babysit her, tell her not to lock the door... He had to let her get through this on her own; she was determined to be self sufficient.

It was no good though. He couldn't stop worrying. He got up and looked around. The bathroom door was still open. He tapped on the door frame then went inside to see Kate standing, still dressed, staring at the shower.

"Are you okay?" he asked. It was a stupid question. Of course she wasn't okay. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tightly as she buried her face in his chest. He held her just as tightly, trying to let her know that she was safe, that it would all be okay.

"What's happening to me?" she whispered to no one in particular. "A few days ago I was a ruthless killer. Nothing could hurt me, nothing could get to me. And now I'm a wreck who can't even take a shower."

Rick stroked her hair, not knowing what to say, just knowing he needed to be there.

"You're going to be okay," he said to her gently. "How about a bath?"

She looked up at him. "A bath?"

"Sure. It gets you clean."

"I haven't had a bath since-"

"Then it's about time you did."

"I don't even like baths."

"Of course you do. You're a girl. Girls _love _baths."

"That's so stereotypical."

"It's true though." He reluctantly took his hands away and went to run the bath. It was huge.

"You could swim in here," Kate said as she sat down on the edge.

Rick poured in a large amount of complimentary bubble bath and shook out more bubbles with his hands. Kate watched him, wondering how she could have possibly been so lucky as to not only meet this man, but also to have him take care of her, to care about her. She bit her lip. She felt as though there was a lead weight in her chest, and no matter what she did it just got heavier. Now she had started thinking about her mother she couldn't stop. And her father. He was still alive somewhere. They had convinced her that she was keeping him safe by letting him think she was dead. But she loved him. She had no idea what had happened to him – she knew he had been in rehab, but not why. She knew he had gone back to work. She hoped that meant he was doing okay.

Rick stood up, wiping his wet hands on his shirt.

"We'll figure it out," he said to her. Kate nodded. She didn't know if she believed him or not.

"Arms up," he said with a little smile. She laughed as she lifted her arms and he pulled off her shirt. She took off the rest of her clothes and he did the same; they got into the bath and she settled in front of him, leaning back against his chest.

"Maybe I just used it all up," she said as he washed her arms.

"Used what up?"

"My strength. My... everything. I don't have any left. So I can't cope any more."

Rick put her arm back in the water.

"Strength isn't something you use up. You just have it. You've had to be far too strong – but you're still able to be strong. It's not good for you, maybe, but you can do it if you want to."

"Really?"

"Sure. You had it in you a couple of days ago, you have it in you now. And whatever you think, it took a great deal of strength to stop hiding in Sierra, and to tell me what you did."

"No, that was... that was the opposite. That was weak, I'm using you to lean on."

"You're wrong. It's not weak. It was hard for you, but you did it to help us, and I hope you did it because you care about me. So I know you're going to cope with whatever happens to us next. Not least because you have to – there isn't really another choice."

Kate bit her lip. "So we have to solve the case."

"Yes."

"I can do that."

"I know. We can even order up some food."

"Mmm. Food would be good."

Rick patted her stomach. "Definitely too flat."

Kate laughed and tilted her head back so she could meet his eyes. He kept a straight face for all of two seconds.

"You're perfect, Kate. You know I think so. Me on the other hand-"

Kate stared at him. "You're perfect too."

Rick smiled. "Thanks. I was just making sure you thought so too."

She flicked some bubbles at him.

"So, have you ever actually solved a crime before? Or do you restrict yourself to just committing them?" he asked, wiping the bubbles out of his eye.

Kate laughed. "My job is supposed to be solving things. I'm just less restricted when it comes to methods." Her tone became more serious. "I don't like it, but…"

"I get it. And you only killed when you had to. You only kill people who deserve it."

"That's what they tell us. I'm not so sure… I mean, Sierra doesn't care. That part of me… I didn't care about much. But now I… maybe I'm as bad as them."

"You're not. But I'd still argue I'm better at solving crimes than you." He tried to keep the mood light. They might have to have a conversation about her being a cold blooded killer sometime in the future, but now wasn't the right moment. He was sure she wasn't, anyway. He couldn't put his finger on it; if he'd been asked for an explanation he wouldn't have had one, but there was something... there was a way to make it make sense.

"Seriously? How do you figure?" Kate followed his lead, laughing with him, letting the rise and fall of his chest against her back soothe her, trying to copy the easy rhythm of his breathing with her speech.

"I actually do solve them for a living."

They were both smiling now. Kate even felt almost natural, his tone was so infectious, his childish joking disguising a far more subtle approach to improving her mood.

"You mean in your books? I hate to break it to you writer boy-"

"Man. Writer man."

"-but those books are _fictional_. You make up the crimes; you know who commits them because you do."

"Ah, ye of little faith. Fine. But I at least know what cops do. I have friends who are cops."

"Oh yeah? Who?"

"Kevin and Javi. I mean it, I do. They're homicide detectives; I ask them when I have questions about my books."

Kate shook her head, grinning.

"Okay, so what do you suggest we do?"

Rick poured some shampoo out of the bottle and began to massage it into her hair.

"We write everything we know on the board. And then we think about it and try to find a lead."

Kate leaned back, enjoying the feel of his hands in her hair.

"What if there isn't one?"

Rick sighed.

"Well you might know it. If you can remember everything you said to the cops that night, we might be able to work out what it is you know that was such a risk."

Kate had thought of this herself; she had been half hoping he wouldn't suggest it. He was right though. She was the best option. She leaned back to rinse off her hair, closing her eyes as Rick fanned it out in the water. Rick gently sat her back up, then got out of the bath, wrapping a towel around his waist and handing her one to dry herself with.

They put on complimentary hotel bathrobes, Kate smiling at the softness of the fabric.

"I know my bucket list isn't very impressive, but I'm very glad I told you this was on it."

"I don't think it was so bad. Anyway, you never got to tell me what else was on it – we never finished."

"Most of the things are just… like, life things. Get married, have a baby, live in a house, learn to cook…"

"So boring. But so sweet."

"Well, I'm a spy. I've done all the crazy things already."

"Like what?"

"Well, like skydiving, flying a plane, being in a car chase, shooting stuff, saving the world…"

Rick laughed. "I like your backwards bucket list."

"Do you have any crazy things on yours?"

"Not really… I mean, it's not the same as you. But I made my first million when I was still in college – I had the money to do all those crazy things when I was young."

They sat on the bed facing the newly delivered white board, complete with a set of coloured markers and an eraser. Kate stood up and uncapped a pen, gripping it a little too tightly as she tried to write her mother's name in the middle of the board.

"I don't really know anything," she said quietly. "I mean, I tried to find out stuff, and looked at her file-"

"Johanna Beckett. On your phone. But you smashed it-"

"I've had it memorised since before I even put it on there. I just carried it around in case I missed something, I guess."

"Well start there – at least we'll have something to look at, then."

Kate bit her lip and began to write, frequently turning around to face Rick. He watched her, trying to exude comfort and calm as she described her mother's murder in a spider diagram. It was very surreal; he almost thought it was all just a long, complicated dream, and any moment he would wake up, alone in bed at the loft. He hated the idea. This was awful – but he didn't think he could live without Kate any more.

Kate knew this was real – she had been in similar situations before. Not quite like this – not much like this, really – but she had been under attack before, she had been in hiding before… she had even gone against orders before. It had all worked out; she was still alive wasn't she? And she had been right, the time she decided not to obey the distant voice on the phone that was never the same, never recognisable. There was no reason why this should be any different. She would fight, and she would win. She would keep him safe. And then… And then she didn't want to think about it. She would take him back to New York, and she would disappear into the night, on some other mission. She would become Sierra again. Because she couldn't stay. She didn't know how… She had just told him she wanted to settle down and have a family before she died – but the truth was, even if she were in a position where it would be theoretically safe to do so, the fact that it would be her trying to live a normal life would make it unsafe. She would be a danger to him, and to the child.

Him. She had been thinking of him. Rick, Rick as a husband, her husband, and as a father to their child. A little girl with piercing blue eyes like his, and straight dark hair. Intelligent, fierce, beautiful…

She stopped herself. This was wrong. She shouldn't even be thinking it. It was impossible – she would inevitably put them at risk. She had a lot of enemies, she was sure. She was already putting him at risk! And even if they didn't have a gang of masked Russians trying to take them out, she was a risk herself. She needed too much – Rick wouldn't cope. Being Kate was stressful for everyone – the world would be much better if she just stuck to being Sierra.

She finished writing and turned to Rick again. He stood up and put his arms around her, trying as always to be comforting and kind. If only… if only none of this had happened. She could have met him in college, or… It would have been so good. But _belonging _in his arms could never be more than a dream. No matter how many times he held her, kissed her, made love to her… It wouldn't last. It was barely even real.


	18. FOCUS

CHAPTER 18 – FOCUS

They looked at the whiteboard. There wasn't much on it; the investigation 8 years ago hadn't been very thorough. Kate tried to feel optimistic – they hadn't even started. She looked at it like a job. She would have to be cold and detached. In a way, she simply had to be Sierra. Rick was calling her Kate now, but it didn't make much difference – it was just a name.

As she made this decision, she felt the relief wash over her. It shouldn't be so easy – but she was a veteran at this. She looked at Rick, completely calm and focused.

"So – when they spoke to me at the police station."

Rick gave himself a shake; he hadn't been concentrating.

"Right – yeah. So you should tell me..."

Kate nodded. That would be best. He was non-biased, and fresh eyes could be helpful. She tried to access the memory without _feeling _it – as though she was talking about somebody else. Playing a part, almost. Very meta...

"Well, they asked me if she had any enemies, but she didn't. Then they asked what she had been working on. I didn't know much about it but I told them what I did. She had been working on a case in Washington Heights. It was to do with... I think she was contacted by a man in prison... I remember my Dad was worried about her, he didn't like her working with someone like that. But I was so self-absorbed... I didn't pay much attention. I felt so bad at the time – but I was a teenager and she had a tendency to be completely caught up in her work. Most of the time she couldn't talk about it anyway, because it was confidential."

Rick tried not to think about her calm tone. This was a woman talking about the day her mother had been murdered. Minutes ago, she had been as he would have expected – unhappy, uncomfortable, nervous... But now she seemed totally relaxed. He hoped this was just her way of protecting herself – but even so...

"Did they ask you about anything else?"

Kate thought hard. "They asked me what she'd been doing recently, if she'd had any strange phone calls or meetings at weird times. I told them she was a lawyer, she was always in meetings or on the phone. But..."

She suddenly hurried to the whiteboard and began to write.

"What?"

"The phone call on Christmas day!"

"What?"

"I told them... Someone called her on Christmas day. We had two lines, a separate one for her office, and it was the office line that they called. She wasn't working, she had told us she was taking the day off. But she answered the phone and when she came back... She could only have been on the phone for a minute, but she was distant for a little while. She said it was a prank caller, made some joke about didn't they have anything better to do on Christmas... She came back to herself but I was worried. Mostly I was mad, actually. I thought it was to do with work.

"Were there any other calls like that?"

"The cops asked me that too. I don't know. I wasn't with her most of the time. Her office line did sometimes ring at night but that was nothing unusual."

"Did they ask you anything else?"

Kate nodded. "Yeah, loads. But just stuff about her life, and what I had done that day. They asked me if I knew what she was doing that day; I didn't know. They asked about her call, when she said she was going to be late, but she sounded normal. They asked what she was doing in that alley in Washington Heights. I had no idea. They even showed me a picture of where they found her. I'd never even _been _to Washington Heights, I knew I wouldn't recognise anything but they showed me anyway. Something about the place... They were really interested in it. Like, more than they should have been."

She began to write again.

"Her job explained why she might have been in that area, and she could easily have been chased into an alley. So why did they care about it so much?"

Rick watched her work. The soft, sweet, lost woman he had been with an hour ago was almost utterly gone. This was Sierra, no doubt. Her accent was even becoming more English. But Kate was in there somewhere. And he liked Sierra too.

"Maybe something else happened there. Could you find out?"

Kate nodded. "Well – I mean, I could if I had access to my usual resources. I might have to... I don't know how to find out."

"Libraries have records."

"Yeah, but not of cases."

"No. But they have newspaper records."

"Okay – but how would we find anything? We don't know when something may or may not have happened there, we don't know what my Mom was up to or..."

Rick suddenly had an idea.

"What happened to her stuff?"

"Uh... Nothing. They didn't even take any as evidence because of the gang violence stuff."

"Did she keep a diary of meetings and the like?"

"Yes..."

"So we could look at it?"

"It's in New York, though."

"Cities are the best place to hide."

Kate shook her head. "I can't. It's... My father."

Rick frowned. "I could go."

"You wouldn't know what to look for."

"You could tell me. You could even just tell me what to take."

"I don't even know if he lives there any more..."

"Would he really have thrown out her stuff?"

Kate sighed. She did not want to go down this road. She smiled weakly. "I thought we were going to LA."

Rick grinned. "We're going to do one better. We're going to solve this case."

"He can't know. He can't know I'm alive."

She sat down on the bed. Rick could see a lot more Kate again. He put his arm around her.

"Maybe he'd be happy."

"After what I did to him? I just left!"

"To protect him."

"To protect myself. I just wanted to run away from everything."

"From what you told me, I don't think you had much of a choice."

"I could have contacted him. I could have helped him somehow. He was broken, for years. He's sober now, but he hasn't been for long. And combine me with the fact that we're looking into Mom's murder – no. He just wouldn't cope."

Rick nodded. He understood. But he wished Kate would change her mind. He had a feeling no matter what she'd done, no matter how long she'd been away, any father would want his daughter back. Oh well. He had at least a day on the road to convince her.

Suddenly she looked at him.

"What?"

"You say what too much. And I just... Could we wait a day or so?"

Rick didn't understand. "Wha- I mean, how do you mean?"

"I... I'm not ready. I want to do it, I want it to be over, I want to fight but... I'm better in shoot outs. I can do guns, I can do fights, I can do car chases. I can think on my feet, when the adrenaline's pumping and it's life or death. That's what I'm trained to do, that's the job I know. This... I'm not a detective. I solve things. But the way I usually find out who's to blame is because he's pointing a gun at my head – so I shoot him first. All this... creeping about, staying off the radar, investigating by thinking and sitting... It's hard. And I don't like it."

"You want to know, though."

"Of course! But I need some time to adjust. Just a day, maybe two, before we..."

"This is about seeing your father again too. And thinking about your mother."

"Yes. I know it's going to be hard and I know I have to deal with it but Rick I just- I want some time with you first. We're going to have to think so much, I'm having to be so strong and hard and cold and all I really want to do is forget all this shit and just be with you!"

She hadn't even known she was thinking it until she said it. Rick smiled at her.

"I'm so happy you said that."

Kate smiled back. "I mean it. I... I'm not going to go all sappy and say things that can't be true, and we shouldn't pretend that this is something which can last forever. But you make me feel... I've never felt anything like it before. And it's fantastic. I don't want to leave it behind."

Rick put his hand on her jaw and drew her face right up to his.

"There are people trying to kill us. You're pretty much having an identity crisis. You're defying all your scary high up bosses. And as much as your suggestion appeals to me – is it really worth it?"

Kate looked into his eyes. "I'm Kate Beckett, and fuck it, Rick, if I'm going to die, I'd rather do it in a 5 star hotel with you than digging myself into a murder case which will rip me up inside and probably still remain unsolved."

Rick laughed. "And how you managed to make that sound hot I will never know."

"Shut up and kiss me, writer boy."

Rick did as she commanded. Then he got up, pushed the whiteboard into the bathroom, closed the door on it, and went back to the bed.


	19. DETECTIVE

CHAPTER 19 – DETECTIVE

They managed to keep their problems out of the room for over 24 hours; it lasted until they _had _to stop – and once they had stopped, thoughts of her father and mother and everything that was going wrong flooded Kate's mind. She kept her face strong, trying not to let Rick know the bubble had burst, but he noticed anyway.

"The walls are up again," he said to her. "Does that mean you want to go?"

"Go where?"

"To New York. To see your Dad."

"They'll be watching him. It'd just put him in danger. And I... I'm not a detective. Even if I found her stuff, her diary, her date book, some notes, whatever... it wouldn't necessarily help. I don't think she knew whoever killed her. It would be putting people at risk for nothing."

"Plus, if we don't go, you don't have to see your father."

Kate looked at him. "Don't judge me for this."

Rick felt bad. "I didn't mean... I guess I understand. But I think he'd want to see you, to know you're alive."

"His daughter isn't alive. He... In my family, our morals were black and white. Killing is wrong; to him, it makes you evil and a murderer, no matter why you did it. And my job is killing. In a way it's better he thinks I'm dead – I'd rather he thought that than he saw what I've become."

"You're not a bad person, you're not evil. The lives you take save hundreds more."

"So? I should find a way to save the lives without taking any. If I kill, I'm as bad as them."

"Do you think that too?"

Kate kept her voice calm and controlled, not showing a trace of the emotion inside her. "Sometimes. It didn't ever matter before – I did my job, I didn't think... I had no desire to be morally correct or a _good _person; I almost took pleasure in the fact that I wasn't. It's different now. I care about someone else. I'm with someone and I want to be good enough for him." _Even though I know it's never going to last_, her brain added for her.

"You are more than good enough," Rick said, going over to kiss her.

"I have to come up with a plan, something that I can do."

"Do you have an idea?"

"Yes."

"What?"

Kate shuddered inside. This would be the hard part. "I'm not going to tell you."

"What? Why?" he said, unsure if this was some kind of joke.

"Because you're going to stay here. I'm not putting you in harm's way again."

"So there'll be harm? You're going to fight them aren't you? You're going to let them know where you are and shoot them all, or all but one so you have one to get information out of..."

Kate maintained her poker face, but he had guessed absolutely right. She was sick of waiting and hiding and running – she wanted a show down and she would have one. She had no idea how many people would come or if she would even be able to fight them all off, but she was good; there was a good chance she would succeed.

"I could help you fight them. You know I'm a good shot."

Kate shook her head. She wasn't moving on this one. He would stay safe.

"You're staying here," she said, pulling on some clothes and strapping on her guns. "I'll be back by tomorrow morning."

It was just after 3pm. Rick watched Kate get ready, trying desperately to think of something to say that would keep her with him, or something that would persuade her not to leave him here doing nothing. He saw all the horrible possibilities. He knew this might be the last time he saw her, he knew this might be the end. And he realised she was showing him that not only was she determined to protect him, she was willing to die to keep him safe.

"This is suicide," he said to her.

"No it isn't," she said firmly. "I'll be fine. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's fighting. You just stay put. And, here." She handed him a gun. "Just in case."

"We should stick together."

"No we shouldn't. My job is to protect you."

"But not to die for me."

"I'm not going to die."

"How do you know?"

She was lying to him. But she would have to keep it up. "Because I know I have to come back for you."

Rick smiled weakly. "I'm glad you know."

Kate took a deep breath. "And if I don't come back-"

"You're going to. You just told me you were."

"Right. But if I'm... held up in traffic or something, and I'm not here by 6pm tomorrow, I want you to call the police."

"The cops?"

"I trust them more than the people I work for."

"And what do I tell them?"

"Everything, apart from who I am. You can tell them about Sierra. It won't take long for MI6 to intervene, but they'll look after you."

"What about the mole?"

"If there is one, you'll just have to hope we're right and they're after me, not you. Hold on to the gun, I guess."

"But you'll be back, so it doesn't matter."

"Right. I'll be back."

Kate left the room, taking the keys to the sleek but inconspicuous black car Rick's hotel friend had given them. She drove away from the hotel, heading vaguely in the direction of New York, then pulled up at a small gas station. There was no one there; she went inside to see the cashier. She smiled as he took in the sight of her; she had weapons strapped all over her body.

"How about you go on home now?" she suggested. He didn't need to be told twice, and disappeared from the shop, glancing back at her just once before jumping on his vesper and driving away. She went behind the counter to use the phone, calling the familiar number. She got through to yet another agent she didn't recognise, and told them who she was. They still didn't know anything about her backup or the investigation which was supposed to be happening in New York. They told her again to return to the safe house, and that she was already under investigation by internal affairs. Her job was on the line. She laughed at the worry that washed through her – here she was, her life on the line, and she was afraid of getting fired.

If she did lose her job, could she be with Rick? The thought was fleeting, she didn't even properly imagine what would happen before she rejected the idea. It wouldn't work. And she'd keep her job, anyway.

She sat up on the counter, waiting. She had checked and there was only one door – it was more of a shed than a building, but it was made of bricks and she had an easy view of the road, so she would know if anyone was coming. It was only a matter of time.

_One Hour Later_

They hadn't come yet. Maybe they were worse at following than she thought; she'd expected them not to be far behind her and Rick. She wondered how Rick was holding up. She hoped he'd be okay. They would get through this. He would get through this, she would make sure of it.

…

Rick lay down on the bed, wishing he could have found a way to go with her. The look in her eyes, so calm and ready... She wasn't giving away a thing and he hated it, he hated that she was hiding herself from him. He really thought they had a chance. They were good together, they could be together when this was over. He had been disappointed when she changed her mind about seeing her father, but he understood. She was used to fighting; fighting was what she knew. She would find out things that way. It would still be alright.

Except the look she had given him as she closed the door... For a moment, her eyes had betrayed her and then she had snapped it shut and he could have imagined it but... The thoughts whirled around in his head. That look... it was the look of someone who wasn't coming back.

_Another Hour Later_

Kate swigged from the water bottle she had taken from the fridge. It was beginning to get dark. She wished they would hurry up and get there; her adrenaline was wearing off and she was starting to feel lonely and tired. She wanted Rick. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to _die _alone.

_Everybody dies alone_, the little voice in her head reminded her. She sighed. She had known since she got on that plane when she was nineteen that she would die doing this job. She had revelled in it – she would die protecting people, she would die doing good. Like her mother, a little. And at least her life would mean something. That had been important.

Now, here she was, with a life that did finally mean something but it was nothing to do with saving the world. Her life meant something because of _Rick_. Because he cared about her, and she actually cared about him. She loved him. It didn't matter if she admitted it now. She was probably going to die, and she wanted to die thinking about him. She wanted her last thought to be that she loved him. She wanted her last wish to be that he was safe, that he would have a good life.

_Nineteen Minutes Later_

She heard the roar of a car engine and knew it was time. She hopped off the counter and crouched behind it, taking out her weapon as five figures moved through the semi darkness. She waited as they approached, knowing every second, and every bullet, counted. She would make them count. She felt her heart rate slow and her body felt stronger, more alive. She was a hunter, an animal, preparing to take down her prey.

She enjoyed this. She _enjoyed _it. She hated herself.

The first one fell immediately – he hadn't even been looking. The others were better, spreading out through the shop. Four of them. She moved around and fired, able to see them in the mirror positioned so the cashier could catch potential shoplifters. Another two shots and the second fell; after six shots only two remained. She dodged a volley of fire that thundered in her direction, then shot back at it, focusing on hitting that attacker.

Focusing too much. He fell and she whirled to take out her last target-

The bullet sank into her as though she was butter. The pain was like nothing she could describe – but she knew it well. She managed to fire three rounds into the shooter before she hit the floor and faded out of consciousness.

…

Rick drove along the road in the mini-cooper, wondering where she would have gone. She wouldn't have gone too far, she would have headed towards New York, she would have gone somewhere isolated and easy to defend.

He saw the little gas station and identified it as a likely spot before he even saw the cars outside and the body in the doorway. He pulled over, the panic flooding his body. Where was she? It was too quiet, they were all... The floor was covered in blood, the little shop had been shot to pieces. Rick checked each body. None of them were her. One of them was still breathing, but barely. And then he went behind the counter, and saw her on the floor, the red-soaked floor...

He knelt down beside her making a sound of pure agony. He grabbed her wrist, pressing in hard- she had a pulse! Suddenly he was all about urgency. She was barely breathing; he breathed into her mouth while he unstrapped all her guns. Then he dialled 911.

He told the first lie he could think of, saying some crazy masked man had come into the store while they were getting gas and shot everyone, but he had managed to hide and his girlfriend was still alive. They told him the ambulance was on its way; he hung up and wiped everything he could think of so their prints weren't on it. He hadn't shaved, he shoved on some glasses he found behind the counter and hoped people would be too preoccupied to recognise him. Sally. He would say her name was Sally. Sally... King. And he would be Ryan. Right. Ryan... Smith? It would have to do. He kept pressure on the wound, it was in her stomach. She wasn't conscious, but he talked to her, saying whatever he could think of.

And then he thought of something. He left her and picked up a gun, then went to the man who was alive. The guy wasn't conscious; he didn't have a choice. He had to save Kate. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger – when he opened them the man had a little round hole in his head, and the raspy breathing had stopped. He wiped the gun and threw it down, then ran back to Kate. She was still alive.

He saw the flashing lights and got ready to lie. The medics hurried in and he shouted them over. They shuddered at the scene but were soon focused on saving Kate. Sally. Sally.

He rode in the ambulance with her. They told him she would go straight into surgery, that her chances were not great, but not hopeless either. He held her hand; it was cold. They told him that was normal. They asked for her blood type but he didn't know; they said that was fine, they could do a test. They told him the cops would need to talk to him, and when they reached the hospital, they told him where to wait. He watched them wheel her away with tears in his eyes, then ran after her, catching up the medics. They shooed him but he ran beside her and faced her.

"I love you," he said. "I know you can't hear me but I love you, so you fight, okay?"

He had to let them take her, then. But at least he had said it. At least he had told her while her heart was still beating.


	20. ANOTHER PLACE

CHAPTER 20 – ANOTHER PLACE

_The world flickered and blurred; Kate felt it slipping away from her. She could hear noises, see lights, hear someone calling her name? But it was all too far away; she gave up on trying to listen. There was another light that was pulling her in, leading her somewhere warm, somewhere safe. _

_She felt the light surround her – and HE was there. Rick. He put his arms around her, then kissed her passionately. He helped her take her clothes off, and ran his hands over her smooth skin._

_"No scars," she whispered. Rick smiled._

"_I loved you with them, I love you without them."_

_He slid to his knees, taking her pants down with him, kissing her abdomen, his hands running over her body creating trails of electricity. She looked around._

"_Where are we?" she whispered as he tugged her to the ground. It was soft, soft but... light. Rick took off his clothes and his blue eyes sparkled at her._

"_Does it matter?" he asked as he kissed her again. She tried to concentrate._

"_Yes. I mean – is this real?"_

_Rick laughed. "Does that matter?"_

_Kate struggled away from him. "Yes! I mean... what happened?"_

_Rick stopped laughing and pulled her gently into his arms. "You were shot. And now you're here."_

"_Then you're not the real Castle. You're just in my mind."_

"_So?"_

_Kate looked around. She had to go. _

"_How do I get back?"_

"_You can't go back," he said sadly. _

"_No! No, I'm not dead!"_

_She thought she could hear something else; she ran towards the sound. She was in some kind of building now – like a hospital, maybe, but there were no people. Rick ran at her side._

"_You're so close... You should just give in. You can rest, now. You've earned it. I'll be with you."_

_Kate groaned. The sounds were getting louder, she was getting flashes of another place. Beeping, lights, shouting – and PAIN. She stumbled, falling to her knees. Rick put his hand on her shoulder._

"_You're not strong enough for this. Come away from here with me."_

_Kate forced herself to stand again. Her stomach felt like it was being torn to pieces, she couldn't hold in a scream as she staggered to her feet._

_"No," she gasped. "I'm going back. I want to live." _

_She forced herself to keep moving towards the sound. The pain got stronger and stronger, she knew she was close to fainting. She clenched her fists. Rick was fading. He had stopped speaking; she was leaving him behind. _

_She felt as if she was walking through treacle. She pushed her way through, crying out with every step. She put her hand to her stomach; she was dressed only in her underwear. And there was blood seeping out of it. She pressed her hand against the wound and kept moving, forcing herself to get closer to the sounds, the pain, the real world..._

…

Rick paced around the waiting room, not knowing what to do. He was also very aware that killing 5 guys did not make them safe, and frequently glanced at the door, half expecting some men in black to come in and start shooting at him.

It was hours before anyone spoke to him. When the surgeon came in Rick wasn't even sure if he wanted to hear what the man had to say.

"Is she alive?" was the first thing he asked.

"Yes," the surgeon replied. Rick sighed with relief. "She's still unconscious, but we're moving her to a room and we expect her to wake up in a few hours. She's a fighter, that one. She had fairly severe internal bleeding, but we've patched her up and she should recover in a matter of weeks."

"Weeks," Rick muttered quietly. "Can I see her?"

"As I said, she's still out, but as soon as she's settled we'll let you in to sit with her."

"Thank you."

It was about half an hour before Rick was allowed into Kate's room. She was lying in the bed, arranged far too neatly. She was very pale; she looked... weak. He put his hand over hers and watched her eyelids flicker as she dreamed.

A nurse came in and called him Mr Smith. He remembered his name was Ryan, and hers was Sally. The nurse gave him a cup of coffee and changed Kate's drip.

"She's on some pretty strong pain meds," the nurse told him. "So she might be a little off when she wakes up. People react differently, she won't feel bad. It's a bit like a high," she said with a wink.

"When will she wake up?"

"Shouldn't be more than an hour or so. The police will come in the morning to talk to her – and you."

"Oh... tomorrow?"

"Yeah. She was shot, they'll have to see if she saw anything. Looks like a robbery gone wrong – but what they don't know is who killed everyone else."

"Killed?" Rick said, pretending to be shocked.

"Yeah – five men, all shot dead. They found the guns that killed them, too. But not who it was. Maybe there was another guy and he shot his friends. But what I don't get is, who would want to rob a tiny gas station in the middle of nowhere?"

"I don't know... It's terrible."

"Yeah – awful! I'm just glad your girlfriend's okay. What's her name?"

"Sally."

"Pretty name. She's beautiful."

Rick nodded. "I know."

"And strong. Not many people survive being shot like that. She's... Never mind."

"What?"

"Well... she's been in the wars, hasn't she? I had to clean her up; she's covered in scars. She's been shot before."

Rick wondered what to say. He hadn't really thought this far into their back story.

"We haven't been going out all that long," he said eventually. "I mean, I know she's got scars, but I didn't want to pry too much. They're from her job, she's a kind of bodyguard. But I don't know the story behind each one."

The nurse smiled, a little embarrassed that she had asked, but still curious about 'Sally'.

"Well, I have to go. Job to do and all that. If she wakes up while I'm still on shift I guess I'll see you again. Good luck."

"Thanks. Have a good night."

"You too," the nurse said as she left the room.

Rick did his best to stay awake as he sat at Kate's side, but he was almost asleep when her eyes opened. He jumped as her fingers twitched in his.

"K-Sally!" he said smiling. Kate blinked. She was in a hospital.

"What... what happened?"

"You were shot, in a gas station robbery. How do you feel, _Sally_?"

Kate caught on immediately. The memories were flooding back to her.

"I feel fantastic, R-"

"Ryan."

"Ryan. I'm so glad you're here. But we have to leave."

"You're high on drugs."

Kate thought about it. "Yes, I am. We still have to leave. Do me a favour?"

"Anything."

Kate laughed. "Lift up the blanket and take a look, see what we're dealing with."

Rick did as she said. There was a small wound in her stomach, bandaged up.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

Kate tried to sit up and groaned loudly. Rick supported her with his hands and she managed to get to the edge of the bed. She could just about stand, but Rick was taking almost all of her weight, and even with the medication the pain was close to unbearable.

"Okay, I have a plan," she said. "Get a wheelchair. And some clothes if you can find any."

Rick laughed. "On it. But just so you know, you're rocking the hospital gown."

"Thanks. Hurry up, before someone comes in."

Rick nodded and hurried out of the room. Kate gritted her teeth and yanked the IV out of her arm. She found a bandage on the counter at the side of the room and pressed it against the hole the needle had left. She was leaning heavily on the bed; she was exhausted. Rick came in pushing a wheelchair, and guided her into it. He hadn't found any clothes but he gave her his sweater and she put it on gratefully. He pushed her out of the room and into the corridor, wheeling her as fast as he could without drawing attention to them.

They made it to the exit without being noticed, and Rick waved down a cab. He told the driver to take them to the hotel. Kate nodded. That was the safest bet for now.

The ride took about an hour; Rick paid and lifted her out. Kate felt too weak to protest. The hotel manager saw them coming in and asked at once if there was anything he could do. Rick asked for clothes, cash, and another car. The manager laughed.

"It's always interesting when you stay here, Mr Castle. I'll give you that."

Rick nodded and carried Kate up to the room. He put her gently on the bed and she smiled.

"Thanks," she said.

"Always," he replied. "And congratulations. You killed four of them."

"There were five-"

"I took care of the last one."

"Wow. You killed someone."

"I kept my eyes closed."

Kate laughed, but winced as the movement jolted her stomach.

"It's not over," she said quietly. "It can't be."

Rick frowned. "No. But maybe for now..?"

"No. I've made them angry. It's only going to get worse."

"I've always admired your optimism."

"Look at it this way. It'll all be over soon, one way or the other."

"One way being we kill them all, the other way being they kill us?"

"Pretty much."

"Which is more likely?"

"Probably them killing us. Especially since I'm in no condition to fight. I can't believe I let one of them shoot me!"

"One of you against five trained killers – and you lived."

"I'm a trained killer."

"They were scary looking guys. You should be proud."

"I feel like an idiot."

"Well. That's your fault. You should have taken me with you."

Kate raised her eyebrows. "So you could have gotten yourself shot as well?"

"Maybe I would have saved you."

"Yeah. Right."

"Hey. I _did _save you."

Kate smiled. "Yes, you did."

"What do you remember? Do you remember being in the ambulance?"

Kate bit her lip. "I remember everything... I mean, I was sort of slipping in and out. I had this weird dream. But I remember..." she bit her lip. Rick looked apologetic.

"I only said it because I thought you were going to die and I didn't... I mean, I didn't want to rush you-"

Kate put up her hand. "I'm glad you said it. It was sweet." _But it doesn't change anything_, she thought to herself. She would still have to leave him.

"So... what's our next move?" he asked.

"I think... I have to get a bit better. Staying here seems to be working. I hope they won't think to look for us here. And then... we have to go to New York. I don't want to. I don't think it'll work. But I need to know who I'm dealing with."

"Do you have any more ideas?"

"I'm still thinking something to do with my mother. And the gas station proved beyond doubt that it's someone in MI6 that's letting them know where I am."

"Do you think... could your mother's murder have had something to do with MI6? What about the guy that recruited you? Maybe something to do with keeping your enemies close?"

Kate nodded. "That's not a bad theory. Which would mean... he's in London."

"Maybe going to London wouldn't be such a bad plan."

"Have you ever been there?"

Rick shook his head. "Always wanted to. Would you recommend it?"

"Definitely. It's a wonderful city. But we can't get there... Oh shit."

"What?"

"We're going to have to steal a plane. You wouldn't know how to fly, I don't suppose?"

Rick laughed. "Nope. No idea."

Kate grinned. "Great. At least you can fly sitting down, and the plan we'll get has two sets of controls. I'll teach you."

"Why can't we just fly like normal people?"

"Something about planes. They're in the sky and you're kind of stuck in them."

"Right. But would they really know which plane we were on?"

"Airports have very good security. They'll be looking out for both of us."

"So we really will have to fly under the radar."

Kate grinned. "There won't be much time for sightseeing. We go in, we find him, we find out if he did it, and if he did, we fill him with holes and we go home."

Rick pulled the murder board out of the bathroom.

"It does make sense."

"We have no proof."

"Do you always need proof to kill?"

Kate became very serious. "Yes. I need to be convinced."

Rick nodded. "I thought you would. I hope it's him. What's his name?"

"I don't know... he's incredibly connected. We used to call him the octopus."

"Why octopus?"

"Because he has slithery fingers in a lot of pies. And he's a slimy bastard."

"Would you mind killing him?"

Kate thought about it. "No. He was horrible. He just wanted to use me. I'd mind killing the people protecting him, though. And he might be hard to kill... he's old, but he's well trained."

"When can we go?"

"When I can walk. And... Look, I know this is a good idea. But I'm not convinced. I think we have to go because even if he isn't to blame, he might well know something."

"I think you just want to go back to London."

Kate smiled. "I do like it."

"And you want to steal a plane."

"Flying is pretty amazing."

"I've never been hugely keen on it."

"You've never flown in a _real _plane."

Rick lay down on the bed beside her. "Maybe you should take drugs more. They help you make plans."

"Maybe," Kate said quietly. Rick put his arm around her and she closed her eyes to go to sleep. She was exhausted, and she knew the meds would wear off in a few hours. She should rest while she could.


	21. FLIGHT

CHAPTER 21 - FLIGHT

The trip to the airfield passed in a blur for Kate. Her meds wore off but the pain was almost as effective at dulling her senses. Rick drove as fast as he could, his knuckles going white as he gripped the wheel. Kate was in the passenger seat, a cold sweat covering her body. She was mumbling nonsense, mostly just sounds, not even words. The seat was tipped back so she would be more comfortable but she was shaking with pain.

"You're going to be okay," he told her. Kate opened her eyes at the sound of his voice.

"I know," she muttered. "Shut up, quit worrying, and drive."

Rick laughed. "You're doing better than I thought you were."

"I've had worse," she said shortly.

"I don't even like to think about it."

"Then..." she winced. "Don't. Do me a favour though. Pull over at the next gas station and get some pain killers or something."

He nodded and began to drive even faster, scanning the road for signs of somewhere with a store.

The pills, when Rick managed to get some, made very little difference. Kate had known they wouldn't, but she pretended they had more of an impact than they did. It would make Rick feel better.

They reached the airfield in the middle of the afternoon. It was deserted; there were no cars in the car park. Kate told Rick to park inside one of the hangars so their presence would be less obvious. She soon saw what she needed – a little fighter jet. It was old; too old fashioned for military use. That was probably why it was here; though of military grade, the hanger seemed neglected. Kate didn't think the army had used this area for a while. She could see an office, though, and the light was on. So they weren't completely alone. There would be CCTV. She put a finger to her lips and looked around for fuel canisters; they were still sitting in the car.

Rick had to lift her out so she could inspect the plane. It seemed to be in working order. She told him just to leave her on the floor while she explained how to fill up the fuel tank and load in an emergency supply. He wasn't as hopeless as he might have been; he had good intuition. Kate told him to keep an eye on the office but there was no movement from it. Maybe the light was just a deterrent. She couldn't believe the place was so unguarded. Something was wrong. She was too weak and preoccupied to figure out what, but there was definitely something up. She suspected they were not the only ones to illegally use this place.

Rick lifted her up gently and put her in the cockpit. She groaned as she was forced into a sitting position but after adjusting herself slightly, she assured Rick that she would be okay. He got into the seat behind her and she told him how to start the engine. So far so good – it shuddered to life and they taxied the plane out to the runway. There were cracks in the tarmac with weeds growing through them. The plane was old... Maybe there was no one here because the sight was deemed worthless. That would make sense-

A blindingly loud alarm sent Rick into full panic mode. He looked behind them to see flashing red lights; the alarm was coming from the hangar. Kate was actually relieved. It meant things were less weird than she'd thought. It must have CCTV or motion monitoring or something.

She reached out for the controls and took charge, cursing as the wound in her stomach sent pain searing all over her body. They had to take off before they were stopped. Rick managed to calm himself down and they got into the air. Kate wondered if the plane had a tracker. She looked at the controls and saw it easily – it was so old, it was just a little beacon thing that could be turned off. She flicked the switch and Rick laughed.

"Was that the tracker? What was the point of it?"

"Someone who didn't know about planes would probably not have noticed. If they were just stealing it... And it's not worth much anyway."

"Will it get us across the Atlantic?"

Kate smiled. "Yeah. It's weird to be going back."

"It might be over soon," Rick said thoughtfully.

"It's only been a few days. You're talking as though it's been a battle lasting for years."

"It feels like years. I don't feel like... I know this sounds strange but when I'm with you it's as though I've never known anything else. I just feel like this is where I should be."

Kate bit her lip. It was so sweet of him to say so. But it was wrong. She was dangerous. Even if she solved this problem, there would be another within weeks, and he would be dragged into it. No. They would fix this, and he would go home. She would find some other life. She would go back to doing her job.

But how? How could she be Sierra, now that she was Kate?

Maybe she would leave. Retire from the service. Do something else. Work as a waitress, work in a store, go back to college and get a degree and then work as a teacher or doctor or lawyer.

None of these were really options. She wouldn't be fit for them. She couldn't see herself ever getting closure...

The sky was beginning to seem a little blurry-

"Kate? Kate! Are you okay?"

Rick was sitting behind her and hadn't noticed straight away that she had slipped down in her seat. He began to try everything he could think of to get a coherent response but she was just murmuring and... crying, he thought. He couldn't see her but he recognised the sound.

To his horror, he realised he was now flying the plane. He knew where they were going; the compass told him what direction to head and they were just flying over the sea. But what if she was still out of it when they had to land? He tried not to think about that now. He had played video games with aeroplanes... he knew roughly what you had to do.

When Kate still wasn't responding an hour later Rick started to get desperate. He shook her shoulders and splashed some water on her, shouting her name. She jerked when he moved her and he winced. He must have hurt her.

"Ca- Castle?" she slurred.

"Yes! Kate, it's me, and I really need you to focus. I need you to stay awake and talk to me."

"I...mm..iii...hurts," she managed. Rick stroked her shoulder gently; he couldn't reach the rest of her.

"I know it hurts and I'm so sorry but I can't do anything for you. Do you know where we are?"

There was a pause while she mumbled little groans of pain.

"We're... plane. To London."

Rick squeezed the shoulder. "Yes, that's right."

The plane hit some turbulence and jolted.

"Dammit..." Kate said slowly. "Who's... flying this thing?"

Rick laughed, surprised but pleased.

"I am. It's nice to see you're still such a kind person, even when you're in pain."

Kate smiled; Rick didn't see it but he could hear it in her voice.

"An' iss nice to... know I'mmm still better... than you ah... at... everything."

Rick chuckled. "Yes, you really are. Tell me something – how do I land?"

"...You press... the button... that says land. It... it starts the landing... cycle."

"Oh. That's pretty simple."

"You have to steer... and pull up the nose. With the... stick. Otherwise... we'll be diving head first into a... into a very hard runway."

Kate's breathing was getting faster and more uneven.

"Try to relax, Kate. Breath gently, keep calm."

Kate managed to steady her breathing a little but her breaths were still punctuated with little gasps of pain. Rick wished he could do something for her but aside from comforting words, there was no way for him to help until they landed.

It was the middle of the night when he had to land, in a small airfield which Kate said was fairly under the radar. They would have to find somewhere for her to recover before they could continue their plan; right now, she wasn't in a fit state to have a conversation, let alone hold her own in a fight.

Rick managed to land without any problems. Kate was a little better; she was speaking more clearly and seemed more alert. He hoped they would be able to find somewhere close with a bed for her to rest in. But he had a nasty feeling that she would need a doctor. Soon.

He hauled her out of the plane and didn't even let her attempt to walk. He carried her towards a little building with a light on; when they got closer he saw a guard inside, drinking tea and watching television on a small, portable set. He banged on the door and the guard opened it. When he saw them he looked a mixture of curious and afraid. Rick moved past him to lay Kate on the small couch in the room, then approached the guard.

"Hello. What's your name?"

"Uh... Steve," the man replied.

"Right. Steve. I'm Ryan. It's nice to meet you. Do you know any doctors?"

"What?"

"Do you have any friends who might be able to help _my _friend?"

Steve looked at Kate uncertainly. "She looks like she needs a hospital... There's one not far-"

"I can't take her to hospital. Please just answer my question."

Steve wiped his forehead. "Actually, my wife is a surgeon-"

"Perfect! Where is she?"

"At home, with my kids. Look, are you going to hurt me?"

"No. Where is your home?"

"It's only about ten minutes away in the car-"

"And you have your car here?"

"Yes."

"I need to borrow it."

"But I..."

"Your wife will come and get you." Rick held out his hand for the keys. Steve's immediate compliance might have had something to do with the fact that he had Kate's glock tucked into his waistband. Rick realised he would have to be even more threatening, though.

"If you care about your wife, you will not tell anyone we were here. Okay?"

Steve nodded. Rick patted him on the shoulder.

"Thank you. Now, please call your wife to wake her up. Don't tell her anything; this isn't a secure line. If you can think of a way to warn her that no one else will understand, go for it. And if anyone comes and asks about that plane, tell them you saw it land and _one _large man got out, but you didn't get a good look at him and you didn't think anything of it."

"It's not my job to look at arrivals. I'm just here to watch after the planes that are here already."

"Exactly."

Rick turned to Kate to see that she was smiling. She winked at him.

"We'll be going now. Nice chatting with you, Steve."

Steve now looked as though he was sure he was dreaming. Rick lifted Kate up again and took her to the car. He strapped her into the back seat and kissed her forehead.

"I'm taking you to see a doctor now-"

"Yes, I know. I was there. You don't have to treat me like an idiot just because of the bullet wound!"

Rick laughed. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking."

"I'm not surprised. Drive, please."

Rick hurried to the front seat and started the engine. He could identify with Steve's feeling that this was all far too weird and complicated to be real.


	22. CLOSURE

CHAPTER 22 - CLOSURE

Steve's wife, whose name was Laura, seemed very adept at not asking questions. She gave Kate a shot of morphine and then inspected the wound.

"It's been well treated," Laura said. "You just didn't rest enough."

"How long do I need to rest?" Kate asked simply.

"Until you're 100%? About two months. Until you can exercise a reasonable amount, I'd give it a week."

Kate nodded. Laura cleaned the wound and then looked from her to Rick with a strange expression. Kate felt much better when she was properly bandaged up again, although it might have had something to do with the drugs she'd been given. Rick produced a wad of cash; Kate reminded herself to watch more carefully what he pocketed when he was with her.

But Laura shook her head.

"Use that to look after her," she said quietly. They both stared at her in surprise. Laura smiled.

"I'm a good judge of character. You two don't seem like bad people. Hole up in a B & B for a week, then do whatever it is you have to do. And..." she left the room for a moment and returned with a shotgun. "Steve uses this for rabbits."

Rick could only gape at her. Kate was more accepting – again, the morphine was probably to blame. Laura put the shotgun in a bag and after refusing Rick's money another couple of times, called them a taxi that would take them to a B & B she knew of not too far away.

Rick was a little worried about Kate. She seemed happy, but she was talking too much, and too strangely. Laura had said not to worry, that morphine could do that, but... she seemed completely out of herself.

In the taxi, she rested her head on his lap. He stroked her hair.

"Just brush it," she murmured. "I don't want you to braid it today..."

"What?"

"I don't need a braid. It's alright."

The driver dropped them at the B & B and Rick got them a room, explaining Kate's condition by saying they'd had a very tiring journey. It was even true. He got her settled in the white cotton sheets and she smiled up at him.

"Can I have a story?" she asked.

"Now you're taking the piss," he told her. She did her best but a giggle escaped her mouth. Rick grinned.

"How do you feel?"

"Better. A little loopy, but it doesn't hurt much at all. We could even-"

"We're here for a week. On our honeymoon. To explain why we won't leave the room."

"Yes, Castle, I heard you tell the owner. May I go to sleep now?"

"I suppose so," he teased, stripping down to his underwear and getting into bed beside her.

"You need a shower," she told him.

"So do you," he retorted. "Yuck."

"Maybe we should just be dirty," she said thoughtfully.

"No... you cannot be thinking about that now?"

"I might die. Who knows what's going to happen..."

"You should take morphine more often! And, no. Not until you're better?"

"What, nothing? Not even a kiss?"

Rick leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. "There. You've had a kiss. Now go to sleep."

She made a face at him, then reached her hand down. "I might not be allowed, but you're healthy, right?"

LINE

It was a long week, especially for Kate. She hated waiting. Rick got hold of a notepad and paper and began writing, she didn't know about what. She also hated being so cooped up with a man who refused to touch her, no matter how guilty she made him feel by pleasuring him. He hadn't moved an inch.

The most worrying thing about that was it might mean he really cared about her. Kate tried to tell herself it was lust, at least on his part. He was a good man, he was protective and kind and interested, but his feelings for her were just friendly and lustful. She wouldn't even say the other 'L' word.

He tried to entertain her. He went out and bought scrabble. It was not her forte. They got hold of a deck of cards and invented scrabble poker, though, which was far more entertaining. You bet letters.

Rick was fairly terrified as the end of the week approached. Kate knew where she was going and what she wanted to do. They had a gun each now and there was no stopping her. And, assuming they survived... what then? She would be a fugitive and he would be... what?

Alone. He would be alone.

* * *

Kate looked at her wound in the mirror. It was much better. She put on the clean dressing and then the baggy t-shirt Rick had bought for her when he went to the supermarket for supplies. She had washed her hair and she put it up. She brushed her teeth slowly, savouring even this small part of getting clean. She didn't know when she would be able to do this again.

Tomorrow she would... But tomorrow was tomorrow. She rinsed her mouth and went back into the bedroom. Rick was lying on the bed looking utterly miserable. His hair was still damp; he had showered first. She went and lay beside him.

"You don't have to come," she said for the thousandth time that week.

"Yes I do," he said simply. "There's nothing else for me to do."

"You could go home. Back to your life, your friends..."

"What life? What friends? Fancy parties? People who only pretend to like me because of my money? When you first saw me, Kate, I was drowning my sorrows because quite frankly, I _hated _what my life had become. But you... You changed everything. Being with you... I can't go back. Not now. Not when I've seen what life can be, how many dimensions it can have... Don't make me leave you."

"I'm not going to make you do anything," Kate said quietly.

"Why don't you want me to go?"

"Because I don't want you to _die_, Rick, and although I can protect myself I may not be able to protect you!" she said exasperatedly.

"You don't have to be alone. Don't you like having someone to watch your back, having someone care about you?"

"I don't need someone to care about me. I care about no one, no one cares about me."

"You're speaking like a monster but you're not one. I know you."

"I'm a killer. I'm a cold hearted killer."

"You save people. You do what has to be done."

Kate sighed. "Look... you can think what you like about me but it's not going to change anything."

"I know. But I'm coming with you."

"Fine. Just... don't die. Watch yourself, okay?"

"Okay. Are we done talking about it?"

"We're done talking about it."

"Right."

They lay there in silence for a few minutes. After their argument, Kate wasn't quite sure how to... initiate things. She wanted him. Badly. Even more now he was angry. She really was messed up. In the end she just asked.

"Are you going to fuck me or what?"

Rick couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Kate started laughing too. She snuggled closer to him as they lay on the bed cackling like a couple of idiots.

"Yes," Rick finally got out. "Yes, I am going to fuck you. Ready?"

* * *

They didn't speak much in the morning. They called a taxi again. Kate tried to take her mind off everything, thinking about her week with Rick. They'd hardly talked at all about anything important but she felt as though they knew each other much better. Maybe you just had to play scrabble poker with someone. It was fairly revealing.

They saw the taxi outside and kissed one more time.

"Don't die," Kate said to Rick.

"Right back atcha," he responded. They nodded to each other and got into the cab.

* * *

It was so simple... They got to the base and went in through the kitchens; no one even checked who they were. Rick followed Kate. When they were underground he took out the shotgun. The glock was tucked in the back of Kate's jeans.

They got to the office. Kate knew who was in there and she opened the door. The man who had recruited her, the man whose name she didn't even know. The man who she was about to kill.

"Hello," he said with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

There was only one other man in the room, his guard, presumably. He was facing away from Kate, looking into a fireplace.

"Do you remember me?" Kate asked, stepping more into the light.

"Of course, Miss Beckett," he replied smoothly. "And the man behind you, looking so protective, is Mr Richard Castle. How may I help you?"

"What happened to my mother?"

"I think you know. Deep down I think you always have. They were orders, Kate. I had to carry them out. I wasn't in charge then."

"And now?"

"And now..." he stood up and walked around his desk. "And now I am very sorry for what I have to do."

Rick raised the shotgun but Kate's eyes were on the man at the fireplace. She couldn't see him very well but he was familiar.

"I have nothing against you, Kate," he said, this nameless commander who seemed to know anything. "I don't know who is trying to hurt you, and that is the truth."

The man at the fireplace was moving now, he was going to turn around. Kate was desperate to see his face. The her boss suddenly made a trigger motion with his hand. She stared at him. He had to be lying. It had to have been him. Unless-

She raised her gun and shot 'Victor' in the back of the head. He crumpled instantly; some of his face was gone but she knew it was him. DNA would prove it anyway. Kate slammed her fist down on the desk.

"But he's just a pawn," she cried in anguish. "This won't end anything. I want... I just want it to be over."

Wordlessly, Smith, he called himself, switched on a television showing an American Senator who wanted to run for president one day. Rick recognised him and watched as the man gave a wonderful speech about making life better for everyone-

And then there was a little pop and he had a hole in his head.

"I look out for my own," Smith said to Kate. He turned off the television and handed her a file from a drawer in his desk. To Rick he gave a black leather briefcase. Rick opened it; it contained money, credit cards, passports, phones... Everything needed to start a new life. Anywhere. For two people. For both of them.

"Don't leave her," he muttered as Kate read through the file which seemed to explain everything. She looked at Smith.

"Why now?"

"I didn't know who the second in command was. When Victor came back.. after you... it took a while but I worked it out."

"And why-"

"You have to go. People will be wondering why he died. Wipe your gun and give it to me."

Kate did so. He shook her hand.

"Now go. We'll erase your record. You never worked here, you never knew us... Johanna and Jim Beckett never had a daughter. Your father sends his regards, by the way."

"You spoke to-"

"Go."

Rick took her hand; he knew a good out when he saw one. They ran from the building; Rick used a briefcase phone to call them a cab and they went straight to the airport. Kate was stunned. She was.. she was..

Free.

"Do you mind if I come with you?" Rick asked nervously. She looked at him.

"Do you want to come?"

"More than anything."

"Then suit yourself," she said with an exaggerated sigh. He chuckled. He was going to enjoy spending the rest of his life following her around.

THE END

* * *

A/N: I'm so sorry it took me so long to finally write this last chapter but I hope you're satisfied with the ending. I know there are a lot of loose ends but this is Caskett, guys, of course it's going to work out! Thanks very much for reading and please review!


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